


mad woman

by WizardGod



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cross-Posted on Wattpad, F/M, George Weasley - Freeform, Ghosts, Hogwarts, Horror, Magic, Multi, Original Character(s), Reader-Insert, Romance, Slow Romance, Threesome - F/M/M, Weasley twins, fred weasley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28107213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WizardGod/pseuds/WizardGod
Summary: Marjorie Longbottom wonders sometimes if Hogwarts made a mistake when they sent her a letter -- barely scraping by in classes, she feels as though she might be better off conceding defeat and just dropping out. Too bad her Gran would kill her if she so much as thought about it.Her fifth year in Hogwarts brings with it the Triwizard tournament, trouble in the form of a pair of red-headed twins, and some disconcerting things that only she can seem to see.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Reader, George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Reader
Comments: 58
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

The grass tickles the exposed skin of Marjorie's legs as she stretches leisurely in the mid-afternoon sun, thoughts slow and soupy as she teeters just on the edge of dozing away. Neville's voice seems very far-away as he chatters away about the qualities of a rare moss found only in west-facing cave entrances. Every so often Marjorie gives a little hum in an attempt to make it seem like she's listening, although she very much doubts it matters; Neville would chat to the tree behind her if he had to.

The honeyed-heat of the afternoon is unusual for mid-October, which makes Marjorie all the more determined to enjoy it while it lasts -- soon the evenings will grow shorter and darker, and Hogwarts will be awash with candles to keep the darkness of winter at bay, and these beautiful sunny afternoons will be like a distant memory. With the sun on her face and the gentle rolling of the Black Lake in her ears, Marjorie is fighting a losing battle to stay awake. Every couple of minutes the lazy silence hanging over Hogwarts' grounds is broken by a shriek of laughter or the careless chatter of students getting too excited about something, and Marjorie jerks a little more awake.

The grass is more comfortable than it has any right to be, and Marjorie finds herself wishing this afternoon could last forever. The exact moment she has that thought is also, unfortunately, the exact moment that Neville decides to slap her hard on her leg.

" _Bollocks_ , Nev!" Marjorie jerks upright, the skin on her thigh stinging. "The hell is wrong with you!"

"You weren't even listening to me!" Neville says indignantly, clutching his new Herbology book to his chest and scowling over the top of it.

"Yes I was." Marjorie defended herself half-heartedly, anger fading. "You were talking about that weird moss."

Neville sniffs and looks away, clearly irritated. "No, I had moved on from that, actually. I was asking if you had written to Gran recently."

"Ah." Marjorie falters. She casts her gaze around, as though hoping someone would jump out and save her from having to answer the question. When nothing of the sort happens, she bites her lip and turns back to her cousin. "No. I don't know how to tell her that I'm failing Charms."

Neville winces sympathetically and nods. "Yeah, I've been trying to word a letter telling her I'm failing Potions for nearly two weeks."

Not for the first time, Marjorie is filled with an abrupt and startling sense of utter appreciation for her cousin; sure, she's failing most of her subjects within the first two months of the school year, but at least they're in this _together_.

"Maybe we should just put it all in the one letter," She suggests, sitting up properly and crossing her legs under herself. "At least that way she might just send us the one Howler, rather than two."

Neville doesn't look particularly enthused at the idea, but he nods all the same. "Yeah, that's probably best. I was gonna ask Hermione Granger for help, but I don't want to bother her -- she's always very nice to me."

Marjorie hums thoughtfully, brow furrowing as she thinks. Asking a classmate for help _would_ be a good idea, but she can't think of a single person who might be willing to help her; her classmates tended to avoid her in class, terrified of being paired up with her for an assignment. She couldn't exactly blame them -- _she_ wouldn't want to be paired with herself either. Glad as she was that Neville had someone that was nice to him and who might offer him some assistance with schoolwork, as Marjorie was a year ahead of her cousin she couldn't very well ask Hermione Granger as well.

"We'll figure it out." She says, smiling reassuringly at Neville. She's not sure how convincing it is, but Neville smiles and nods all the same.

"Course we will." He says, and turns happily back to his Herbology book.

* * *

With the Triwizard Tournament happening at Hogwarts this year, Marjorie had been under the completely incorrect impression that her teachers would hold back a little on the homework. Instead, it's like they're competing with each other to see who can send their students careening head-first into an emotional breakdown fastest.

Marjorie sprawls out in front of the fire-place in the Gryffindor common room, star-fished across the carpet. Her abandoned homework lays by her head, the pathetic inch she's already written taunting her. The common room is pleasantly abuzz with conversation; people are discussing their classes, their homework, friends they've met from the visiting Wizarding schools, and just general small talk. Marjorie wishes desperately that they'd all just shut up, though she very much doubts that it would make any difference at all to her current work ethic.

She feels someone come to settle next to her on the carpet, and knows that it's Neville without even looking. "Don't talk to me." She warns, her words muffled by the carpet.

"Homework going well, then?" Neville asks, completely ignoring her dramatics. Apparently he cranes his head to get a look at her parchment, because when he speaks again his voice is coloured with disgust, " _'A History of Chichevache in Great Britain throughout the ages_? Urgh."

Marjorie shoves herself up, spitting out carpet fibers as she goes. "I don't even understand what a Chichevache _is_ , Nev!" She wails, scrubbing at her face. "Why do I need to know this?"

Neville, bless his soul, nods along sympathetically. "It's rubbish, really, isn't it."

Sighing, Marjorie decides that it's probably time to pack up for the evening and begins shoving everything into her backpack with absolutely zero finesse. Her assignment is going to be awful anyway, she doubts it matters whether she hands it in on crumpled parchment or not. When she looks up at her cousin again, she sees that he's looking over at the squishy armchairs clustered in the corner, where Harry Potter and his two friends are sitting huddled around a mass of parchment.

Marjorie clicks her tongue in sympathy, and murmurs, "I suppose you haven't asked Hermione Granger for help?"

Neville shakes his head miserably, "Harry's so busy with the first Triwizard task coming up; I can't distract them from that!"

There's a sudden commotion from the portrait hole, and the two of them turn to catch sight of the bright orange heads of the Weasley twins clambering into the common room. They're clutching each other and howling with laughter, as though they've just heard the funniest joke of all time.

Marjorie purses her lips at the loud interruption to the relative peace of the common room. "Think I might go to bed, actually."

Though she doesn't look at him, she can _feel_ Neville staring at her, aghast. "Maggie, it's only seven thirty!"

"I'm very tired, Nev!" Marjorie says defensively, hauling herself to her feet and throwing her schoolbag over her shoulder. When she sees Neville's expression (looking distinctly wrong-footed, as though he'd missed a step on a flight of stairs), she softens and says, "Sorry. I'll see you at breakfast, yeah?"

"Yeah." Neville smiles, instantly soothed by her apology. "Feel better."

Marjorie makes her way upstairs wondering how on Earth her cousin manages to be so damned sweet, and also thanking any earthly power listening that he didn't seem to notice her bad mood coincided with the arrival of the Weasley twins. She still hadn't forgiven them for the awful prank they'd played on her in their first year; it had started with Muggle itching powder and vanished shoes, and ended with her careening head-first down one of the staircases as it was mid-change. The only reason she hadn't hurtled right off the edge and into the depths of the castle was thanks to Professor McGonnagal's well-timed arrival and quick spellwork.

Though the rest of the student body had found the entire incident _hilarious_ , it took Marjorie _quite_ a while to get over her now instinctive fear of the moving staircases. She also couldn't help but feel that one of the reasons she found it so hard to make friends in her first year was because people thought that she was a bit of a loser -- a preconception not helped by the mortifying prank Fred and George had pulled on her in only their second month of school. Of course, that didn't fully explain why she was still largely friendless in her fifth year of school, but she tries not to think too much about that.

The dorm, when she enters it, is empty, and she breathes a short sigh of relief as she begins to change out of her uniform and into her nightdress. Her roommates have never been anything but polite to her, but the lack of privacy is still one of her least favourite aspects of life in Hogwarts.

She flops back onto her four-poster bed with a sigh; she hadn't really been lying to Neville about being tired. Marjorie has always found it difficult to sleep at night, but recently she's been feeling as though it's getting worse. She doesn't feel as though she's gotten a good night's rest ever since she arrived at Hogwarts a month ago.

Her inability to sleep through the night is in huge part down to the funny noises and strange shapes she _swears_ she hears and sees when the room is dark and quiet. All the same, she wraps herself in the downy covers and sighs into her pillow as she shuts her eyes. There's no point in worrying herself with her mountain of increasingly difficult schoolwork and shadowy shapes that may or may not even be there; they could wait until tomorrow.


	2. II

"You look terrible!"

"Cheers, Neville." Marjorie grinds out, reaching for a plate of sausages. She _feels_ terrible; despite her best efforts, sleep did not come easy to her last night. In the light of the morning it all seems ridiculous, but she could have _sworn_ last night that there was a very tall, shadowy figure standing in the corner of her dorm room all night long. The draft that kept blowing through the room didn't help, sounding like whispered words just beyond the edge of her comprehension.

"I mean," Neville hastens to say, "That is, not _terrible_ , exactly, but, er- a bit tired, maybe."

Marjorie huffs a weak laugh through her nose as she butters her toast. "Yeah." She murmurs, tearing an enormous bite of and chewing it lazily. The thought of going to double Charms this morning feels almost physically painful, so she finds herself shoveling food into her mouth in an attempt to fortify herself for the day ahead.

Neville watches her cram food into her mouth at a borderline insane pace, looking extremely concerned. He's very obviously about to say something, but then Seamus Finnegan throws himself down onto the bench next to them and begins questioning Neville about Potions homework, successfully distracting him.

Marjorie gets to her feet and grabs her bag while Neville's attention is taken up by his friend, and leaves quickly for class before her cousin can ask her any more questions. Maybe it's silly, but she just can't bring herself to tell Neville about the difficulties she's been having with sleeping. She far prefers the idea of him putting her exhaustion down to insomnia than to him knowing the truth. The thought of his horrified concern upon hearing that she's _seeing things_ watching her in the middle of the night is just _awful_.

Breakfast hasn't quite finished yet, so Marjorie ends up being early to Charms. She doesn't mind, really; the Charms classroom is peaceful so early in the morning, before it's disturbed by excited yelling and flashes of overenthusiastic magic. As the only person in the classroom so far, she relishes the quiet and takes a moment to rest her head on the top of her desk.

She's so tired that she almost doesn't notice when the door to the classroom swings open again, but the sound of a hushed conversation and quiet laughter clues her in to the fact that she's no longer alone. She lifts her head, curious, and nearly flings herself under the table at the sight of Fred and George Weasley. Because of _course_ , on the _one day_ that she arrives to class early, the twins also decide to be early for the first time _ever._ They're snickering together, and apparently haven't even noticed her presence yet. That's just perfect, really. Marjorie's eyes dart around the room, trying to figure out how to escape from the classroom before they notice her and she becomes a target.

Unfortunately, she's too slow. She's only just started to slip out of her chair when one of them (George, perhaps?) looks around, and his gaze falls directly on her. She flushes as his eyebrows creep slowly up his forehead, and whatever he's in the middle of saying cuts off short as he nudges his brother in the ribs.

Fred looks around too, and blinks when he spots her. They both look _confused_ , which throws Marjorie off completely, although she supposes it's better than being on the other end of one of their _mischievous_ looks. "What are you doing here?" Fred asks, frowning. He's speaking at a normal volume, but it almost seems to echo around the empty classroom. Marjorie thinks he might not mean it, but his tone is so blunt that it's almost rude.

Marjorie straightens in her seat and tries not to look as though she'd been planning on running. "I'm waiting for Professor Flitwick."

The twins tilt their heads in mirrored confusion, the timing so perfect that Marjorie wonders if they've actually practiced it. "Why didn't you wait at his office?" George asks.

"Er-" Marjorie frowns, unsure of what they mean, until it abruptly clicks and her jaw clenches in irritation. "I'm _in_ this class."

 _"Are you?"_ The twins say in unison; Marjorie might have been impressed if she wasn't so busy feeling insulted.

" _Yes._ I've been in this class with you for _five years."_ She points out as the twins share a glance, obviously flummoxed. Marjorie stares back at them for a long moment before breathing out a sharp puff of air. "Unbelievable."

Smiles turning sheepish, the twins opt to claim the desks directly in front of her. Marjorie straightens in her seat yet again, startled. The twins ordinarily sit on the other side of the classroom from her, and have done ever since first year -- she knows this because she makes sure to sit as far away from them as she possibly can. The idea of them abandoning their regular desks to sit closer to her fills her with an acute kind of anxiety. "What are you doing?" She asks, her voice at least an octave higher than normal even to her own ears. "Your desks are over there."

Fred laughs as George leans forward, pretending to be wounded. "What, you don't want us sitting near you?"

Marjorie looks back and forth between them, suddenly at a loss. If she tells them that she truly doesn't want them anywhere near her, will they be angry enough to retaliate with another nasty prank? They're smiling now, but who knows how long their good humour will last? She's pretty sure they've pranked people for less. But if she allows them to stay near her, what kind of precedent will that be setting? What if they decide to sit next to her all the time?

After a brief moment of thought, she considers the fact that no one has ever made the conscious decision to sit next to her for more than two lessons in a row. Combined with the fact that the twins seem to have rather short attention spans, she figures that by next week they'll probably have returned back to their usual spot in the classroom.

"It's fine." She says, only noticing how long the pause has stretched once she finally speaks again.

The twins share another look, visibly trying to hold back laughter. Marjorie flushes in embarrassment and looks away, trying not to curse herself. She's an actual idiot. Why can't she just act _natural_?

"Hey," says Fred, tapping his knuckles on the desk to get her attention. "What's your name again?"

Marjorie's head snaps up at that, disbelief contorting her face. " _What?"_

Fred leans back, apparently startled by the force of her exclamation. "Er-" he starts, apparently at a loss as he shoots a look at his brother, who shrugs looking equally as nonplussed.

Marjorie glances between the two of them, searching for a sign that they're joking around. _Surely_ , after _five years_ of being _terrified_ of being on the receiving end of one of their stupid pranks following that awful encounter in first year, they would at least have the _manners_ to remember _scarring her for life_. Even if she _had_ been so good at avoiding them that she managed to completely escape their notice- "We've been in the same class for most of our subjects since first year!"

Judging by the looks on their faces, this is news to them. Marjorie clenches her jaw and breathes deep, forcing her attention back down to her desk as the classroom door opens and students begin filing in at a steady rate. She's beginning to feel like an utter twat -- what does it matter if the twins don't know her name? _Apparently_ , she's managed to make herself fade so far into the background that she's just about invisible. Which is fine. That's fine.

George leans over to say something, but then Flitwick bustles in and Marjorie straightens up and very determinedly does not look in their direction. It's more difficult than she anticipated, considering both of them keep glancing back at her and their attention is making her nervous. Eventually, they seem to pick up on the hint that she's ignoring them as class goes on, because they put their heads together and begin to whisper instead.

By the time the class finally, _finally_ ends, Marjorie's nerves are frayed and she hasn't retained a single scrap of information from the entire double period. She can see Fred and George beginning to turn around in their seats to face her again, but she jumps up out of her seat before they can say a word and makes a beeline directly for the door.

She's in such a rush to leave the classroom that she manages to walk directly into the door-frame, ricochet violently and stagger back, before making it out of the room on her second try. She marches down the hallway with her ears burning, struggling to pretend she doesn't hear the laughter echoing from the classroom behind her.

* * *

At dinner that evening, Neville nudges her side sometime around dessert. "Maggie, are you alright?"

Marjorie, whose attention is so deeply taken up by her lemon meringue pie that her head is practically buried in the bowl, startles at the elbow that abruptly jabs her in the ribs. "Ow! Damn, Nev, what?" She scowls, before the question actually registers and she rubs her ribs a little resentfully. "Oh. Yeah, fine. Just had a long day, you know. Why?"

"I just thought that something might have happened today." Neville says slowly, with the air of somebody that's picking their words very carefully. "Because Fred and George keep staring at you."

Startled, Marjorie whirls around just in time to catch the twins looking her way before their heads duck away and they begin peering rather unconvincingly in the other direction. She scowls at them, but since they're not even looking her way anymore she turns back to Neville. "They're just curious because they don't know who I am."

Neville looks like he doesn't believe her, and glances over her shoulder at where the twins are sitting several places down. "But you've been in the same year for five years now."

"I _know!"_ Marjorie cries, feeling vindicated now that Neville is on her side too. "But apparently they don't even know my name. Even though they played that awful joke on me in first year."

"When they stole all of your left shoes?"

"No, that was Peeves." Marjorie scowls at the memory of having to hop around the castle wearing two pairs of right shoes until Professor McGonnagal found where Peeves had stashed the stolen left ones. "They nearly killed me on the changing staircase."

"Oh." Neville murmurs, looking worried around a spoonful of custard. "I suppose they play a lot of jokes like that on people."

"Well, _I_ didn't think it was funny." Marjorie responds archly, taking another forkful of pie. In an undertone, she adds, "I should have pressed charges for emotional damages or something. Could I do that?"

Neville hums, obviously not listening. His attention has been drawn to the teachers table at the top of the hall, where Professor Moody is making a spectacle of conspicuously inspecting an enormous platter of profiteroles. "Hey, did I tell you that I got an _E_ on my Defence Against the Dark Arts assignment today!"

"No," Marjorie says, allowing her frustration to melt away in the face of her cousin's excitement. "That's incredible, Neville! Well done!"

Neville beams, his round cheeks flushed with pride. "He's a really great teacher, isn't he?"

"Yeah." Marjorie says, trying to sound convincing. Truthfully, she doesn't much care for Professor Moody at all -- she hasn't quite forgiven him for upsetting her cousin with his careless display of the Unforgivable Curses at the beginning of term. Neville, it seems, has quite forgotten that he was ever upset with him; probably because Moody keeps supplying him with books on rare and mystical plants. "I miss Professor Lupin, though."

Neville hums again, his eyes gone slightly glazed over. "Hey, I think I'm going to ask Professor Sprout for an extra assignment. Reckon I can't go wrong with getting some extra credit, right? Might make up for Potions."

"Hm." Marjorie nods thoughtfully. She wasn't particularly good at Herbology, so an extra assignment in it wouldn't be of much benefit to her, but she supposed she could look into an extra assignment for something else. It might make her Christmas report look a little better, at the very least. "Maybe I could ask Trelawney for something?"

"Yeah, why not." Neville says, though his nose wrinkles a little. He still hasn't forgiven the Divination professor for incorrectly predicting that their grandmother's health would fail.

Marjorie nods decidedly. "I'll do it tomorrow, then." With that, she pushes her plate back and stands from the table. She gives Neville a little wave, and as she walks out of the Great Hall she has to consciously pretend not to feel twin gazes boring into her back.


	3. III

Professor Trelawney is only delighted to give Marjorie extra credit work; Marjorie gets the impression that not many people actually take an interest in Divination. Armed with a dream journal that expects some truly invasively detailed description, Marjorie sets off the Defence Against the Dark Arts with a new spring in her step -- the extra credit dream journal is sure to get her a decent enough grade in Divination, so at least she knows she'll be passing one subject.

Professor Moody's classroom is full of intimidating Dark detectors, spinning and whirring all the time as cloudy faces peer out of the fogged glass. On her way to her desk, Marjorie accidentally knocks over a Sneakoscope and winces as it emits a shrieking high-pitched whistle as it hits the stone floor.

"Sorry!" She cries out and tries to chase it down as it rolls across the classroom floor, under desks and between legs. Some people laugh out loud, though others wince at the noise and scowl at her.

"Leave it!" Moody snaps, and snatches it up as it rolls out from under a desk. "Sit down, Longbottom."

Face hot with embarrassment, Marjorie sinks down into her desk. "Sorry." She says again, but quieter this time. She thinks she would quite like to sink into the floor right about now.

"Nice one."

"Very smooth."

Marjorie stiffens, her eyes growing wide. Slowly, she turns in her seat and looks over her shoulder. Sitting at the usually unoccupied desk behind her, are a grinning Fred and George Weasley. "What are you doing here?" She whispers at them, casting a nervous glance to Moody, who's begun teaching already.

"We're _in_ this class." George whispers back to her with a laugh, echoing her words to them from Charms the previous day.

"Why are you sitting there, I mean!"

"For a refreshing change in perspective, of course." Fred says cheerfully, leaning back dangerously on his chair.

"But-"

" _Longbottom_." Moody barks, and Marjorie whirls to face him. "Got something you want to say?"

"No, sir!" Marjorie squeaks, terrified. She ignores the quiet laughter from the twins and focuses determinedly on Moody as he turns back to the blackboard.

They're working on jinxes and counterjinxes today, much to the class's excitement and Marjorie's dismay -- she's never been very good at spells, and in practical demonstrations she usually finds herself being the guinea pig for other students to practice on. Luckily, today Moody has them practicing on wooden dummies rather than each other. All the same, it's a long lesson full of tricky spellwork that Marjorie can't get the hang of, and Moody roaring what he probably thinks are encouragements but actually just sound like threats.

By the time class ends, Marjorie feels as though she's fit to crawl to the Great Hall for lunch. Two girls shoulder past her on the way out of the classroom, engrossed in conversation, and Marjorie can't even summon up the energy to feel annoyed about being sent stumbling into the wall. She's so tired that she thinks it'll be a miracle if she even makes it to the Hall.

Then she feels two presences just behind her, and she suddenly finds the energy to speed up until she's practically power-walking down the corridor.

"What the-? Hey, hang on!" One of the twins calls out to her, laughing despite the surprise in his voice as she darts around a couple of second years. "Hey! Longbottom!"

"Shit, shit, shit," Marjorie chants, panicked. What the hell do they want with her? All those years of careful avoidance have apparently gone up in smoke, now that they're hot on her heels. She has a horrible feeling that if she stands still in front of them for too long, they'll do something awful to embarrass her.

She nearly careens head-first into a seventh-year Ravenclaw, though she manages to just _barely_ avoid him -- despite not touching him, he roars " _Watch it_ , Longbottom!" after her.

 _Merlin_ , _this is so embarrassing_ , she thinks, ducking around a huddle of first years and edging her way closer to the entrance to the Great Hall -- she's so _close_ , only a few meters away-

 _"There_ you are. Blimey, you're fast."

The gaggle of first years squeak and begin to disperse, startled by the appearance of the twins. Whether they're startled because they know who the twins are or if it's just because they're older students is unclear, but they cast them several curious looks over their shoulders as they go. Majorie turns slowly to face the twins, who are breathing a little heavily. One of them (she _thinks_ it's George) is leaning against the wall in what would be a casual stance if he didn't appear to be winded, and the other (Fred?) is standing with his hands on his hips, chest heaving.

"Oh," Marjorie says as though she had only noticed that the twins were following her just now, "Did you want something?"

George starts to laugh, a little disbelievingly. "Uh, yeah. You left your school bag back in the classroom."

Marjorie only notices the bag in his hand when he holds it out to her, and she takes a moment to stare at it in mute mortification. _Oh._ They hadn't been planning on doing anything horrible to her at all. If anything, she had just humiliated herself by making such a big deal of sprinting away from the two of them in the hallways.

"Thanks." She says in a very small voice, taking the bag from George and slinging it over her shoulder. She hopes that her face isn't as flushed as it _feels_ , though she has a feeling that that particular hope is in vain. "Uh. Thanks."

 _You said thanks already!_ , her brain screams at her. Unable to cope with embarrassing herself any further, Marjorie turns on her heels and begins to march away. To her dismay, the twins begin to follow.

"Woah, wait!" Fred says cheerfully, skipping a few steps closer to her as George closes in on her other side. "How'd you find that lesson, then?"

Marjorie squints at him, then at his brother, wondering if they're trying to make some sort of a joke -- anyone who had so much as looked her way in that lesson would have seen that she had struggled with the spellwork. "Are you making fun of me?"

The twins share a look. "No," George says slowly, "We're just wondering."

Still side-eyeing them, Marjorie shrugs. "It was okay."

" _Okay?"_ Fred repeats, nose scrunched up. "Only okay? Don't you think that his lessons are incredible?"

"They're fine." Marjorie says quickly, flustered by their sudden attention. If anything, their past _inattention_ is made all the more obvious by the fact that they don't seem to realise that Marjorie struggles miserably in that class. "I think I preferred Professor Lupin, though. He was very kind."

"Sure, Lupin was great." Fred says, "But Mad-Eye is just- he's really _seen it_ , hasn't he?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose he has." Marjorie agrees, wondering vaguely what exactly it is that he's supposed to have seen. They reach the entrance to the Great Hall, and she sends them a tight smile. "Well, bye."

"Hang on, we're going to the same table, aren't we?" George laughs, effortlessly keeping pace with her even as she tries to scurry away to the Gryffindor table.

Marjorie just glances at them; their continued presence is making her nervous, and she can't help but feel that they're _up to something_. "Was there something you needed from me?" She asks carefully, trying her best to remain polite and avoid offending them.

Her politeness is apparently very amusing to them, as they both share a lightning quick look between them and begin snickering. "Do you have such a low opinion of us, Longbottom?" George asks, affecting a ridiculous parody of a posh accent that Marjorie supposes is mocking her own.

"Yeah, Longbottom, can we not just be friends?"

Marjorie's gaze swings between them, desperately confused. They're making fun of her, she knows it, she just can't figure out the joke. Annoyed and a little hurt, she narrows her eyes and clenches her jaw and says, "If you actually _meant that_ , I think it would be _lovely_ to be friends, but there's no point in saying things like that just to wind me up, you know! It's not a very kind thing to do!"

The boys blink at her, faces painted with identical expressions of surprise as Marjorie turns on her heel and hurries away over to the Gryffindor table, where Neville is laughing at something that Dean Thomas is saying. She prays that no one else heard her mini outburst -- she's embarrassed herself enough for one day! Before the twins can catch up and say anything more to her, she burrows into the tiny space between Neville and Dean.

Neville shifts aside easily to allow her space to sit, never faltering once in his conversation. Dean spares a moment to offer her a small smile and a "Hey, Marjorie," but other than that they both remain immersed in conversation about Quidditch. Marjorie's grateful for their distraction, if only because it means they don't ask her any questions.

Marjorie jerks awake, mouth open in a silent scream that's cut off by a choking, rasping cough. She lays on her back, staring up at the dark canopy above her as she gasps for breath. Her dream, awful though it was, slips from her memory like smoke.

The room is quiet, the silence broken only by Katie's familiar heavy breathing; after five years of sharing the same dormitory, the sounds of the girls sleeping nearby are usually comforting. Tonight, however, the sounds just grate on her nerves and it doesn't take long for her to realise that there's not much chance of her being able to get back to sleep.

The stone floor is cold against her bare feet as she climbs out of bed, though it's not until she slips out of her dormitory and into the dark staircase that she fully feels the chill of the night air. Shivering a little but remaining undeterred, she pads down the stairs and emerges into the common room, breathing a little sigh of relief when she sees that the fire hasn't gone out yet. She guesses it must be sometime around two or three in the morning.

As she draws closer to the fireplace, she's startled to see that the common room isn't actually empty, as she had first thought; there's a mass of bushy dark hair sticking up over the top of one of the couches. It seems that Hermione Granger has fallen asleep in front of the fire, with a pile of knotted wool in her lap. Marjorie creeps closer, and reaches out to place a hand on the other girl's shoulder. "Um, Hermione?"

Hermione jerks awake with a throaty surprised sound, her head swinging around to look at Marjorie. "I- what? Oh." She blinks, her face sleep-creased and uniform rumpled. "Marjorie?"

"Hi," Marjorie says awkwardly, beginning to second-guess her decision to wake her now. "Er, sorry. I just thought you might get a crick in your neck if you slept like that."

"Oh, yes, of course." Hermione sits up, straightening her uniform fussily. "I was just so focused on getting this hat finished, for the house-elves, you know-" She cut herself off suddenly, squinting up at Marjorie as though seeing her in a new light. "Have you joined S.P.E.W yet, Marjorie?"

"Have I joined- what, sorry?"

"S.P.E.W! Hang on, I have badges!" Hermione dives for her bag, pulls out a handful of brightly coloured little badges, and promptly launches into an impassioned tirade about the welfare of oppressed magical creatures.

Marjorie nods along, wide-eyed and a little overwhelmed, but interested all the same. "You're right, that's awful." She says earnestly once Hermione has paused for breath. Coming from an old Pure Blood family, she's embarrassed to admit that she had never put to much thought into the structural inequalities within the Wizarding World. "I'd love to join S.P.E.W, I think it's a wonderful idea!"

Hermione beams, looking almost incandescent with joy. Marjorie thinks that she probably would have joined even if she thought it was a terrible idea, but it was definitely worth it to see such a look of joy on Hermione's face. Once they sort out the payment, Marjorie is the proud new owner of a shiny S.P.E.W badge and Hermione begins chattering about how she plans to use the money collected from the badge sales to fund the production of informational pamphlets.

Marjorie smiles along even as her eyes glaze over a little, nodding every few moments when it seems as though Hermione wants a response. She lets her gaze travel around the room as she tries to stifle a yawn, but as she glances towards a dark corner by the portrait hole she finds herself stiffening, every ounce of tiredness vanishing at the sight of a dark figure standing there.

The figure is tall and thin and shrouded in shadow, but Marjorie thinks it's a woman. Her breath catches, and her mouth drops open in horror as she leans forward to get a closer look.

"Marjorie?" Hermione's voice causes her to jolt; for a second, she'd forgotten she was there. "Are you alright? You've gone quite pale."

"Yes. I just-" Marjorie wheezes, her gaze darting back to the corner. 

There's nothing there.

Marjorie stares for a long moment, before she tears her eyes away from the empty corner and forces a smile. "Sorry. Just tired, I think."

"Of course, it's late! I'm sorry for keeping you," Hermione turns to fuss with her bag and her knitting. She doesn't seem to notice the way Marjorie keeps looking around the empty common room like an overly-spooked horse. "I'll see you in the morning. And I'll keep you updated on any S.P.E.W updates, of course!"

"Great, thank you!" Marjorie tries to sound upbeat and enthusiastic, but she has a feeling she misses the mark quite miserably. All the same, Hermione offers her a little smile and a wave before disappearing up to the dormitories.

As soon as she's out of sight, Marjorie whirls around and peers around the room properly. It is completely and decidedly empty, though the waning flames from the fireplace cast flickering shadows over the walls. There's nothing and no one there. Marjorie thinks that tomorrow she might feel foolish for jumping at shadows, but at the moment her vague dream is lingering in the back of her mind and the figure had _seemed_ so real.

Suddenly, being alone in the common room so late at night doesn't feel like such a good idea at all. Marjorie turns and follows Hermione's lead back up the stairs, clutching S.P.E.W badge to her chest. She's being stupid, just jumpy from her bad dream, but still -- it's probably better to be safe than sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so i definitely don't usually update so quickly but i'm stressed w school work and having a LOT of fun writing this story lol


	4. IV

As October slides lazily into November, the castle becomes awash with floating candles and seasonally autumnal wreaths to keep the growing dullness of winter at bay. It's as beautiful as ever, and only adds to the excited buzz amongst the students as the first Triwizard task begins to draw closer. The feverish anticipation is contagious, and even Marjorie finds herself caught up in the whole excitement surrounding the _mystery_ of the competition.

Harry Potter himself seems to be the only person in Gryffindor House who remains resolutely unaffected by the anticipation surrounding the upcoming task -- whenever he was asked about it, he just looked vaguely ill and swiftly changed the subject. Neville had confided to her in a low voice that Harry and Ron Weasley had had some sort of falling out, although he needn't have bothered; Marjorie wasn't entirely stupid, and it was difficult to _not_ notice that the two of them were no longer seen in each other's presence.

Marjorie feels an enormous amount of sympathy for Harry; she imagines that the look of nauseated dread that creeps across his face whenever someone brings up the Tournament is similar to how she looks whenever someone brings up the topic of the Yule Ball. All the girls in the dormitories seemed absolutely thrilled about the idea of a ball, but then they would be -- Marjorie is _certain_ that they will all be asked in no time. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia are all nothing short of lovely, and very pretty too. Anyone who asked them would be lucky to attend the ball with them! It's unlikely, however, that Marjorie herself will be asked, and the thought of attending alone makes her palms sweat.

At breakfast one morning, two weeks before the first task, Katie says to the girls, "Okay, but who would your dream date be? Like, if you could pick _anyone_?"

"Cedric Diggory." Alicia says promptly without pausing to think, grinning even as she receives an elbow to the ribs from Angelina.

"Oi, good show of House loyalty!" Angelina complains, but she's grinning too. "Fair enough though, he's got a nice face, hasn't he?"

"His face is pretty good," Alicia nods sagely, "But have you seen his arse beneath his Quidditch robes? It is _something else_."

The girls howl with laughter, and Marjorie smiles nervously at the edge of their group. She's not really sure if she's being included in the conversation, but Neville (sitting to her left) is in the middle of a passionate description of mandrake care to a politely attentive Dean Thomas, which leaves her listening in to her dorm mates' conversation and trying not to seem too intrusive.

"I think possibly Krum," Angelina says thoughtfully, her gaze roving over to where the surly boy sits at the Slytherin table, "But he'd want to lighten up a bit. Still, I'm dying to ask him for training tips. Imagine how cool that'd be. And you, Katie?"

"Oliver Wood." says Katie immediately, as though she had just been waiting for someone to ask. "In a _heartbeat_ , girls."

There's some thoughtful mumbles agreement, and then Alicia turns around and says, "What about you, Marjorie?"

Marjorie jerks, startled at being addressed so suddenly, and begins to choke on her pumpkin juice. She hadn't even realised that the girls had known she was there, so the sudden inclusion to the conversation had taken her by surprise.

"Oh!" Angelina's eyes go wide as Marjorie splutters and she begins pounding her hard on the back, apparently under the impression that this would be helpful, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine!" Marjorie wheezes, struggling to get herself back under control. "I, um, I- I think I would probably- um, I think maybe Cedric, too. I've fancied him since third year." As soon as the last part comes out of her mouth she turns violently scarlet. _Why_ had she admitted that! The girls would surely think she was a total creep for sharing that!

But Alicia just nods with a certain sense of satisfaction and winks at her. "Seems like we both have good taste, eh, Marjorie?"

Taken aback but utterly delighted with this new sense of camaraderie, Marjorie nods eagerly. "Oh, yes! He's very, um," and then she abruptly colours even further, and ends her sentence in an embarrassed whisper, "Very handsome."

"Damn right he is!" Alicia cheers loudly, and smugly adds to the other girls, "See, Marjorie's on _my_ side here."

"Well, the others are good choices too!" Marjorie says hastily, worried that the others might be annoyed with her, but Angelina waves her off.

"Diggory's a good choice, sure, but I've just thought of someone else," she says, waggling her brows with a grin, " _Charlie Weasley."_

Katie makes an odd sound around a mouthful of hash brown and begins blushing. "Oh Merlin, _yes_." She says emphatically as she chews.

Alicia nods too, but when the girls look to Marjorie for a reaction she only shrugs. "I don't think I know Charlie Weasley." She confesses with a shrug.

"Oh, you poor thing." Katie says playfully, "You have no idea what you're missing out on."

"Although, _speaking_ of Weasleys," Alicia says with an air of confidentiality, leaning over the table and gesturing the other girls closer, "What's going on with you and the twins, Marjorie?"

Marjorie straightens up out of surprise, blinking rather owlishly. "Going on?" She repeats, confused.

"Well, it's only," Alicia's eyes dart momentarily over Marjorie's shoulder, looking somewhere further down the table. "They keep looking this way, and it's definitely not us they're looking at."

"They asked me about you yesterday," Angelina confides, biting back a grin, "Wanted to know if you'd always been in our year or if you transferred in recently."

"Good Godric Gryffindor, those two are so _dense_." Katie sighs, "Were they being serious? We've been in classes together for _five years!"_

Marjorie just nodded along, surprised speechless yet delighted at the prospect that all the girls were on the same page as her. It _was_ ridiculous! "I thought I had made quite an impression on them in first year after they sent me down the moving staircases, but apparently not." She confessed, a little self-conscious of the fact that she was apparently so forgettable that even almost breaking her neck wasn't much of a noteworthy event.

Angelina shook her head and bit into her toast with a shrug, "Don't take it personally, Marjorie, honestly. They're just like that."

Marjorie hummed, and cast a quick look over her shoulder. The twins were sitting several places down and having a very intense whispered conversation with Lee Thomas, but one of them glanced up and caught Marjorie looking at them. He sent her a cheeky wink, and laughed when she went bright red and whirled back around to face the girls, who thankfully didn't appear to have noticed the exchange at all.

"We'd better get going to Charms." Angelina was saying, pushing her breakfast away a little reluctantly and getting to her feet. Katie and Alicia follow her lead, but when Marjorie doesn't move Angelina asks, "Coming, Marjorie?"

Again, Marjorie startles a little, before blurting "Oh, yes!" and snatching at her schoolbag. "See you later, Nev." She says hastily, nudging her cousin in the back as she climbs over the bench to join the girls. She feels a little bad that she had mostly ignored him for the whole meal, but she was just so excited to be included in the group with the girls! Plus, Neville was busy having his own conversation, so she didn't think he minded very much.

Angelina and Alicia kept up a steady stream of conversation the whole way to Transfiguration, with Katie chiming in every couple of minutes with her own opinion. They did their best to include Marjorie in their conversation, but didn't seem to mind too much when she stayed quiet. After sharing a dormitory with her from first year, they were probably used to her being quiet. Marjorie was too busy enjoying the feeling of feeling included to bother with speaking too much -- she didn't want to ruin it.

They had to split up once they got to the classroom, moving to sit in their usual seats, but Marjorie was so pleased with how breakfast had gone that she swore she was probably glowing as she sat alone at her desk near the back.

Her airy happiness doesn't last for too long, however, as someone throws a crumpled up piece of parchment at her head. She pulls it out of her hair with a frown and turns to see the Weasley twins, settling into their seats behind her once again. "Yes?" She says, aiming for a patient and pleasant tone of voice and just falling short.

"Well, hel _lo_ to you too, Maggie." One of them says as they both send her identical grins.

Marjorie stares at them, shocked at the sound of Neville's little pet name for her falling from his mouth. " _What_ did you just call me?"

Their smiles slip a little, and they share a brief indecipherable look between them. "Oh, come off it, you can't pretend that's not your name. We heard Neville call you yesterday!" The other one says. Marjorie thinks that this one is Fred.

Marjorie's face drops, unimpressed. They had taken to trying to _guess_ her name, now? "Only my family calls me Maggie."

"Aw come on, we're friends, aren't we?" Possibly-George says with what he clearly thinks is a winning smile. "Surely we can call you Maggie too, huh?"

Marjorie is so taken by surprise that she almost forgets to answer. She doesn't think she's ever had so many people be friendly to her in one day in all her years at Hogwarts -- despite her lack of experience in the friends department, she doesn't _quite_ think that she's at that point with either Fred or George. "No." She says belatedly and too bluntly to be polite, then gets flustered at her unintentional rudeness.

Rather than get offended, however, Fred and George just look at each other and crack up laughing. To Marjorie's relief, Flitwick walks in and hushes everyone as class gets started. They're practicing a variety of everyday household spells today, and Flitwick pairs them off into groups of two in order to practice together.

Professor Flitwick always chooses to partner people from different houses together in the spirit of inter-house unity or something like that; this is good for Marjorie on the one hand, as it means she has an excuse to move away from the twins. And yet, on the _other_ hand, they have Charms with Hufflepuff today.

"Miss Longbottom, with Mister Diggory, please!" Flitwick squeaks from the top of the class as he reads out the pairings for practical work.

Marjorie feels the blood rush to her face even before Cedric turns to peer around the classroom, trying to spot her. Her blush is only made worse when she catches sight of Angelina and Alicia, wagging their eyebrows at her and grinning so widely it looks as though their cheeks are about to split in two.

When Cedric finally spots her, he smiles and ambles over. "Hey." He says softly, kindly choosing not to comment on the redness in her round cheeks or the way she's sunk down in her chair. "How's it going?"

"Great!" Marjorie says, sounding distinctly strangled. "Mm. Really wonderful."

Cedric doesn't laugh, but he looks as though he might want to. Instead, he just says, "Well, that's great to hear," and swiftly opens his Charms textbook.

Marjorie sinks down a little further in her chair, cursing herself.

Flitwick bounces around the room, passing out what looks like ancient and very stained Quidditch robes. "Listen here, students!" He calls, drawing attention to the front of the room, "Today, I want you to pay particular attention to the Cleaning Charm!"

Cedric nods along confidently, unphased by Flitwick's instructions. Marjorie, on the other hand, begins to feel her stomach sink. She's never been very good at Charms, and this time she has the added pressure of being paired with _Cedric Diggory_. She really can't imagine a single way that this situation will turn out well for her.

"Would you like to go first?" Cedric offers, gesturing to the ragged set of Quidditch robes laid out on the desk in front of them.

"Oh, um," Marjorie glances around rather anxiously, but can't quite see any way to get out of this. All around the classroom, students are shouting incantations with various levels of success. The chaos is a little distracting, but at the very least it seems that no one is paying attention to her. Even the twins, each paired up with a rather disgruntled looking Hufflepuff, are preoccupied with transfiguring the Slytherin robes they've been handed a lurid, obnoxious shade of pink.

Under Cedric's encouragingly expectant gaze, Marjorie fiddles with her wand and takes a breath as she prepares herself. " _Scourgify!"_ She flourishes her wand at the robes.

Instead of purging the layers of dirt from them, however, Marjorie's spell tears a hole right through the centre of them.

She and Cedric stand and blink at them, startled by the force of the charm. A sense of creeping humiliation begins to build in Marjorie's stomach, and she glances sideways at Cedric. "I think I did it wrong."

"Er-" Cedric pokes at the singed edges of the fabric. "I think it looks a bit cleaner, actually, if you look closely."

If anything, Cedric still trying to be nice to her is even more humiliating than if he had been rude to her. "Ah, thanks." she says weakly. "I think it'd be better if you gave it a go."

"Right, yeah." Cedric says sheepishly, and begins rolling up his sleeves. He doesn't seem to be aware of the dark flush crossing Marjorie's face, or if he is he does not show it. When he casts his own charm, he does so with the kind of easy confidence that Marjorie equally envies and finds attractive. Several layers of filth promptly disappear, revealing black cloth for the first time rather than just the deep brown of dirt. Cedric peers critically at it, "A few more goes should do it, yeah?"

"Yeah, but maybe you should do it."

Cedric chuckles, but then immediately looks guilty. "Sure you don't want to try again?" He asks, "I can mend the hole, if you want to give it another go."

"Yeah, I'd probably just accidentally blow them up or something." Marjorie says with a self-conscious smile.

Cedric laughs again, properly this time, as though Marjorie had just told a very funny joke rather than the truth. He repairs the damage to the robes with a flick of his wand, and then casts the Scouring Charm again. The robes are beginning to look almost like a wearable garment by this stage, and for the first time Marjorie can see that they're Ravenclaw robes.

By the time Flitwick appears by their side, the robes are actually quite decent looking. "Excellent work, Mr Diggory!" He cheers, inspecting the robes.

"Marjorie helped." says Cedric generously, casting her a conspiratorial wink.

"Ah, of course." Flitwick says indulgently, although he appears doubtful when he glances at her. "Very good, Miss Longbottom."

"Thank you, Professor." Marjorie smiles, conscious that her cheeks are still flaming from Cedric's wink. Once Flitwick moves on, presumably to scold Arthur Carmichael (who has managed to shift the dirt from his robes to all over his partner, who looks as though she's about to start swinging on him), Marjorie turns back to Cedric and earnestly says, "Thanks, for that. I'm, um... not doing too great at Charms at the minute."

"No problem." Cedric says airily, stowing his wand away. "Those household charms can be tricky, anyway. They're finicky, you know?"

"Right." Marjorie nods, deciding not to point out that Cedric hadn't appeared to have much difficulty with them at all. Even Carmichael had done a better job than she had.

She's relieved when class begins to wrap up -- she thinks that too much time with Cedric is probably bad for her blood pressure. Her stomach flips dramatically when he leaves her with a smile and a "See you, Marjorie."

"Oh, yes, goodbye!" Marjorie breathes, flustered. She's so flustered that she hardly notices the twins appearing behind her.

"Marjorie!" They chorus, their tones revelatory.

"Hm?" Marjorie hums absently, her eyes on Cedric's honey-coloured hair and broad shoulders. Distracted as she is, she doesn't notice the way the twins begin to snigger.

One of them steps in front of her, grinning from ear to ear. "Oh, ex _cuse_ me!" He says in an exaggeratedly polite voice, "Are we distracting you from your very important ogling?"

"No!" Marjorie snaps, whirling around defensively. "What do you want?"

"Nothing at all." The other twin says airily, stepping up beside her. He towers over her, smirking. "Just wanted to commend you on your stellar job with those robes. You blasted through them like they were made of wet tissue."

"Yeah, can you give us tips?"

 _Damn_ , Marjorie thinks, her shoulders beginning to hunch. She should have known that she wasn't fortunate enough for that particular mishap to have gone entirely unseen, but she really didn't think that she deserved to be teased mercilessly about it. "I'm not in the mood to be mocked." She said, hoping to sound firm but coming off a little nervous.

"Who's mocking you? We're being serious, aren't we, George?"

"Right we are, Fred." George grins at her, "It really was quite impressive, you know. We've found that it can be pretty difficult to blast holes in things without setting whatever it is on fire, but you managed it with no problem!"

"Yeah, that kind of mindless destruction can actually be pretty difficult!"

Marjorie glances between the two, feeling distinctly unbalanced. They _seem_ earnest enough, but Marjorie just has too much experience with being the butt of the joke to take them at face value. "Right. Well, I'd better be going." She says, awkwardly trying to edge around both boys.

Fortunately, Alicia appears right at Fred's shoulder that minute, grinning like a wild thing. " _Marjorie!_ " She breathes, looking practically beside herself. She grabs Marjorie's arms and elbows George in the stomach to get him to move out of the way, then hauls Marjorie out of the classroom and into the hallway. "Partnered with Diggory! What are the chances!"

"Oh, yes, I know!" Marjorie giggles despite herself, giddy from her interactions with both the girls and Cedric. "He was very kind!"

"I really thought you were going to pass out when Flitwick read out your names, you went so pale!" Alicia laughs, clapping Marjorie on the back, "But you held it together quite well!"

Marjorie beams, her embarrassment beginning to steadily fade away. She thinks that she wouldn't mind embarrassing herself in front of Cedric Diggory a hundred times over if it meant that she could laugh about it with the girls afterwards. It feels, for these brief moments, as though she has friends, and she finds herself desperate to hold onto that feeling for as long as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marjorie? Developing crushes on anyone who shows her basic kindness and desperately yearning for the validation of female friendships? Yeah, that might be me projecting 🥺
> 
> I was gonna wait to post this, but I'll be busy next week as I have loads of assignments due, so I thought it'd be best to just post it now. As always, I'd really love to hear what you think and it'd mean a lot if you commented!


	5. V

Marjorie's potion is emitting ominously dark clouds of smoke and the occasional belching sound. After desperately flicking through her Potions textbook for a solution yields no results, she casts a nervous look around the dungeon.

From the table beside her, Miles Bletchley from Slytherin casts a disgusted sort of look at both herself and her cauldron. He leans over to whisper something to the girl next to him with a pointed look in Marjorie's direction, and the girl looks over and begins to giggle.

Ears growing red, Marjorie ducks down and doubles her efforts to rescue her potion. If she doesn't do something to improve it very quickly, then-

"And _what_ ," comes the horribly familiar slow drawl of Professor Snape from just over her right shoulder, "do you call this, Longbottom?"

"It's the Draught of Peace, sir." Marjorie manages to force the words out with great effort -- even in a whisper, her voice shakes slightly.

" _Is_ it." Snape peers down into her cauldron, his expression unreadable. "What colour is it supposed to be, hm?"

"A-a light periwinkle blue, sir."

"And what colour do you call this?"

Marjorie's stomach sinks so low that she thinks she might be sick. "I-I suppose, um... brown, sir?"

"Brown." Snape repeats. His nose is crinkled in disgust, but Marjorie can't shake the feeling that he's enjoying this nonetheless. "What did you do wrong?"

"I followed the instructions, sir." Marjorie says quietly, avoiding his dark eyes at all costs. "I don't know what-"

" _Obv_ iously you did not follow the instructions, idiot girl, or this wouldn't have happened." He snaps, waving a hand at her now-heavily smoking potion. His voice abruptly turns silky and rather dangerous, "Or are you telling me that my instructions were not correct?"

The dungeon had fallen eerily quiet, and Marjorie felt the heavy weight of her classmates' stares on her; some of their gazes were pitying, some gleeful, and some just seemed relieved that Snape's ire was directed at her rather than them.

"No, sir!" Marjorie says quickly, aghast. "No, I didn't mean-"

"If you followed the instructions to the letter, as you say you did," Snape speaks over her, still using that deceptively soft voice, "Then I cannot seem to understand how the potion could have gone so wrong. Are you so incompetent that merely your touch corrupts your work?"

Marjorie is sweating now, flushed horribly from a mixture of terror and humiliation. Tears prick at her eyes, and she has to keep her gaze stuck to the floor to prevent Snape or her classmates from seeing her cry. Behind her, someone sniggers. "I-I'm sorry-"

"I don't want you to be sorry, I want you to _listen for once in your-"_

Snape's harsh reprimand is cut off by a loud _bang_ , as a cauldron several desks away explodes violently, spraying indigo liquid all over the walls and floor of the dungeon and coating several students who were unlucky enough to be standing close to it. Whirling around and apparently forgetting about Marjorie entirely, Snape stalks like an overlarge bat to the back of the classroom to survey the mess.

As soon as he's out of earshot, Angelina slides over. "Are you okay?" She asks, throwing a nasty look in Snape's direction. "He's such a greasy _git_."

"Yeah." Marjorie breathes, not entirely sure if she's answering Angelina's question or agreeing with her sentiment about Snape. "He just- he scares me."

She's half-expecting Angelina to laugh at her, but instead she nods seriously. "I can understand why. He picks on you worse than anyone else, you know." She scowls in the Potion master's direction once more before adding, "Honestly, it was good timing on Fred and George's part. If they hadn't done something, I think I probably would have."

"Fred and George?" Marjorie repeats, still slightly shaken, and turns to see Snape fish what looks like the burnt remains of a firework out of the bottom of the exploded cauldron.

He stares at it for a long moment in silence, his greasy hair falling over his face to obscure his expression. When he finally does speak, it's in a voice so soft it's hardly audible, "Weasley."

"Yes?" One of the twins says obstinately. They're both standing at a cauldron throwing-distance away from the one that had exploded, miraculously clean of the potion remnants that have covered everyone else within range, watching Snape with matching expressions of distaste.

The whole class watches in captive silence until the bell goes that moment, breaking the bubble of tension that had been steadily building as people scramble to bottle samples of their potion. Marjorie bottles and stoppers a sample of her own potion, choosing to ignore its striking similarity to sewage water, all while keeping a close eye on Snape as he orders the twins to stay behind after class.

"Come on," Angelina murmurs, tugging Marjorie hastily out of the dungeon, "No point in sticking around waiting for him to remember that he was in the middle of publicly humiliating you."

She has a point, so Marjorie doesn't argue. She can't help but glance once over her shoulder as they leave though, and asks, "Are they going to be alright? Surely they'll be in loads of trouble."

Angelina scoffs, throwing her braids over her shoulder, "Nothing new for them, don't you worry about it. They knew what they were doing when they threw that stupid thing into Boles' cauldron." Once they're in the hall, Angelina checks her watch and clicks her tongue. "Look, I've to run to get to Ancient Runes. You okay?"

"Yes, of course!" Marjorie flusters, still not used to anyone asking after her, "I, um, I have a free period now."

"That's good." Angelina nods, "Well look, take it easy for this period, yeah? I'll see you later."

"Yes." says Marjorie as Angelina gives her one last smile and turns to walk away. "Thank you!" She calls belatedly, watching as Angelina just gives her a lazily salute as she goes.

Marjorie watches Angelina, Katie, and Alicia as they howl with laughter in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room, reading each other passages from a magazine that is apparently terribly funny.

"Why don't you just go over and join them?" Neville asks without looking up from his History of Magic essay. "It's obvious that you want to."

"I can't, it would be weird." sighs Marjorie, tearing her eyes away from the girls and looking back at her dream journal. The dream journal-ing is not going well; so far, all that her dreams have consisted of is vague spindly dark figures that alternately point at her and shriek in terrible howling voices or simply loom over her shoulders and disappear when she turns around to catch a look.

"It wouldn't be weird," Neville argues in that soft way of his, without any heat, "You're mates, aren't you?"

"We share a dorm," Marjorie murmurs, "It's not the same thing."

"I think you're being silly."

Marjorie scowls at him then, and pokes her quill at his shoulder. "Oh yeah? Why don't you go and join _them_ , then?" She jerks her chin over at Dean and Seamus, who are lazily chatting over on two armchairs by the stairs.

Neville colours, and doesn't meet her eyes. "That's not the same."

"How is it not the same?"

He's saved from answering as the portrait hole opens, and Fred and George emerge into the common room. They seem no worse for wear after their encounter with Snape that afternoon, nudging and sniggering to each other as they make their way over to Lee Jordan and Ron, who are sitting beside two empty armchairs. Marjorie watches their progress across the room and tries to figure out if she should go over and say thank you to them. If it were anyone else she probably wouldn't be hesitating like she is now, but she doesn't particularly want to be made fun of.

She doesn't notice that Neville is watching her, glancing between her and the twins. "Er... everything alright?" 

Marjorie jerks and lowers her gaze instantly, burrowing her head right back into her dream journal. "What? Yeah, of course." She says hastily, beginning to sketch out a messy drawing of one of the figures from her dream.

A little frown appears on Neville's forehead as he looks back to his cousin. "Are they, um... are they bothering you?"

"No, of course not." Marjorie sighs, peeking up at him from over her journal. "They actually sort of did me a favour today."

"A favour?" Neville says doubtfully, "Really?"

"Mhm." Fiddling with her quill, Marjorie sends another quick glance their way. "I was actually trying to figure out if I should go over and say thank you."

Neville still looks confused, but he nods slowly all the same. "Right. Well, why not?"

"Yeah, why not." Marjorie murmurs, before taking a fortifying breath and clambering gracelessly to her feet. Neville shoots her a confused but supportive smile as she begins to make her way across the room.

One of the twins sees her coming, and nudges the other who then turns to watch her approach with raised eyebrows. Their attention makes her want to turn around and go straight back to Neville, but she powers through until she comes to a stop right in front of them. Ron, who seems to have been in the middle of a story, falls silent when he notices that his brothers' attention is elsewhere and turns to stare at her too. The abrupt silence makes Marjorie panic a little, and she blurts out, "Oh, hello!"

Lee Jordan must take pity on her, because he gives her a gentle smile and says, "How's it going, Marjorie?"

"Ah, good, thank you!" Marjorie grasps onto this tiny bit of kindness, answering a bit more eagerly than the question warranted, "And you?"

"Yeah, not too bad, thanks." Lee bites back a grin. "Something you needed?"

"Ah," Marjorie glances back to the twins, "Just to say thank you, actually."

"Oh?" One of the twins leans back in his armchair, "Hear that, Georgie? Marjorie wants to say thank you."

Marjorie flushes without fully understanding why, and stares at the carpet rather than make eye contact with any of them. "Yes, um... I appreciated it, that's all."

George, who's been watching her very closely since she's come over, offers her a genuine smile. It's much softer than his usual mischievous grins, and Marjorie finds that she can't actually look at him at all while he's smiling like that. "Nothing to thank us for, really. Getting under Snape's skin is a favourite past time of ours, honestly."

"Yeah, getting him off your back was just an added bonus, really." Fred chimed in.

Now that she has said what she came over to say, Marjorie is at a bit of a loss for what to do or say next. She fiddles with her fingers, eyes darting from one twin to the other as she searches for something to say. Ron speaks before she gets the chance to. "Honestly Marjorie, you're wasting your time thanking these two," He says absently, hardly even looking up at her; he seems too busy staring down Harry, who's sitting with Hermione across the room, "They probably did it just cause they thought it was funny, I doubt they were actually trying to help at all."

"Oh," Marjorie laughs nervously, suddenly embarrassed -- what was she thinking, coming over here to bother them like this? "Of course! I didn't mean to- er, sorry!"

Before any of them can say anything more she turns on her heel and hurries away, though she still hears George land a kick on Ron's thigh as Fred hisses "A bit of _tact_ , Ronald!"

Neville is looking at her expectantly even before she sits down next to him again. "What was that all about?"

"Nothing!" Marjorie says quickly. She buries her head back into her dream journal and doesn't raise it again for the rest of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you as always to everyone who reads and leaves kudos/comments, I appreciate it more than you know! I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy out there!


	6. VI

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> I just wanted to say thank you so much to everyone who took the time to comment/leave kudos on this story! It makes me so happy and excited to see people are enjoying it!

The day of the first Triwizard task finally arrives, and the entirecastle is buzzing with barely contained anticipation. Huge crowds ofstudents and spectators make their way down to the large arena afterlunch, flashing colourful badges and chanting the names of their chosenchampions. Katie had been kind enough to invite Marjorie to come down and watchthe first challenge with her, Angelina, and Alicia. As much as Majoriedearly loves her cousin, she had accepted the offer eagerly; Nevillewas good company, but she's sure that he'll be happy to stand with hisown dorm mates.

"Merlin, Marjorie, did you eat anything today?" Angelina asks,peering into Marjorie's face. "You look like you're about to keel over!"

"I'm, er- I'm a bit nervous!" Marjorie admits, her hands trembling asshe looks out over the arena. She's so terrified on behalf of thechampions that she feels as though she might vomit all over the peoplein the row in front of them.

"Alright, everyone?" A cheerful voice calls from behind them as LeeJordan drops into a bench in the row just behind them. "Blimey,Marjorie, you look as though you're the that's about to face a dragon!"

"Dragon?" Marjorie squeaks, horrified.

Lee nods, "Saw them this morning. Four of them, big and scaley and mean-looking. One for each champion, looks like."

No wonder Harry looked as though he hadn't slept in days,Marjorie thinks to herself. He must have known! Her sympathy for himsky-rockets; he's only fourteen, and they want him to fight a dragon? She thinks of Neville being forced into the same position and feels her knees go weak.

Apparently oblivious to Marjorie's internal crisis, Alicia says to Lee, "Oi, where are Fred and George?"

"Oh, uh," Lee says evasively, suddenly looking a little shifty."They're around. Had to go and talk to someone first, but they'll meetus here."

"Talk to who?" Alicia presses, but Marjorie's attention is abruptlyaverted as she catches sight of a head of thick, bushy hair sat right infront of her.

"Hermione?" Marjorie asks, patting at her shoulder.

When the younger girl turns around, Marjorie sees that her face lookscompletely bloodless. "Oh, hello!" She says weakly. She looks asdreadfully nervous as Marjorie feels. "Um. Looking forward to the task?"

"No." Marjorie confesses, leaning forward. "I think I might be sick, actually. Is it true that there's dragons?"

"Yes." Hermione takes a deep breath to calm herself, although itdoesn't look like it works particularly well. "Awful, isn't it?"

"Is- well, is Harry going to be okay?"

Hermione looks as though she's about to bite clean through her lip, and her eyes fill with tears. "I don't know!" She whispers, agonised. "Oh, I'm so worried-!"

Marjorie feels a ball of thick, choking dread begin to pool in herstomach, almost like a sympathetic response to Hermione's anguish."He'll do fine," Marjorie says, trying to sound confident. "'Course hewill. They couldn't allow this Tournament to go ahead if there was anychance of it endangering school kids, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Hermione dries her eyes hastily. "I expect Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

Marjorie nods as she sits back, though she remains largelyunconvinced. She just can't get over her anxiety. And though Hermionenods heartily, her nerves don't appear to have abated any either. Frombeside her, Ron Weasley has remained completely silent through the wholeconversation; he gazes into the arena with a complicated expression onhis face, eyes dark.

By the time the twins finally arrive, Ludo Bagman has begun toannounce the beginning of the task. They appear to be in bad humour,scowls etched deep into their foreheads as they immediately beginwhispering with Lee upon their arrival. Marjorie hardly notices; herattention, like the attention of everyone else in the arena, is fixed onthe group of well-built, burly men tugging on enormously thick ropes -- at the end of the ropes is unmistakably a dragon.

Marjoriedamn near faints on the spot, her gaze drawn inexorably to thedagger-like claws and enormous teeth, the tough scaley hide, the spikesrunning down it's bright green back. "Holy sh-"

"Is that CharlieWeasley?" Katie interrupts, practically throwing herself forward for acloser look at the men leading the dragon into the rocky landscape ofthe arena.

"Where?!" Angelina and Alicia begin craning their necks eagerly.

"Oi!"George says from behind them, sounding miffed. "There's a great big dirtydragon in front of us, and all you lot want to look at is our brother?"

Georgegoes completely ignored, Angelina turning instead to elbow Marjorie andsay "Look, Marjorie, that's him over there! Didn't I tell you he was gorgeous!"

Thetwins begin making over-the-top retching noises, but Marjorie's gazehas finally landed on Charlie Weasley and she actually feels her jawdrop. The man isn't nearly as tall as Fred and George, but he'sbroad-chested and his biceps are probably bigger than Marjorie's head.His skin is deeply tanned, with constellations of freckles spanningacross the bare skin of his arms. With flaming red hair and a chiselledjawline that can be seen from the stands, Charlie Weasley would be avery striking man even if his extremely well-defined musculature wasn't being perfectly showcased by his repetitive tugging on the dragon's restraints.

"Oh-he's, well, he's very-! Wow." Marjorie clears her throat, flustered.Behind her, Fred and George stop their fake-retching in favour ofcracking up laughing at her reaction, which only flusters her further.

"Oi,that's our brother you're objectifying, Longbottom!" Fred yells in acarrying voice, and people in the surrounding rows begin to turn towardsthem as Marjorie sinks down into her cloak.

Once the handlers have situated the dragon in the middle of the arena they retreat, and very shortly after Ludo Bagman shouts out Cedric's introduction to the frenzied crowd and a figure appears from the Champion's tent and enters the arena. From this distance, Cedric looks terrifyingly small against the bulk of the dragon, and the egg he's meant to receive glints tauntingly from between those deadly clawed toes. The crowd collectively holds their breath as he approaches the centre of the arena, waiting on tenterhooks to see what he's planning on doing next. Though he's pale, he seems confident as he readies his wand -- Marjorie feels quite certain that if she was in front of a dragon, with those enormous amber eyes staring her down like that, she would probably just wet herself. Or vomit. Or pass out. Most likely all three, in that exact order.

"What's he doing, then?" Katie murmurs, standing on her toes for a better look.

Cedric is pointing his wand in the dragon's direction, but he doesn't actually seem to be aiming at the dragon. Rather, he seems to be aiming at a large boulder just to the left of the beast. In a rather impressive feat of spell-work, he transfigures the boulder into a large golden Labrador which begins barking up at the dragon rather aggressively.

"Oooh, he's trying to distract it!" Alicia breathes quietly, as though worried the dragon might overhear her.

For a moment, it seems to work -- the dragon takes several lumbering steps after the dog, clearing the way for Cedric to get to the Golden Egg. He's only just managed to reach it, however, when the dragon seems to lose interest in the dog and lunges back towards Cedric with a roar as fire sprays from its maw.

Marjorie shrieks and snatches at Angelina's arm, who has clapped her hands over her mouth, but then the tension breaks as Bagman cries out Diggory's victory and the crowd begins to go wild once more. Diggory grins at the crowd as he clutches at the Egg one-handed; the other arm appears to have a rather nasty burn.

"GO ON, DIGGORY!" Katie roars, hopping on the spot like a demented rabbit, "NICE ONE!"

"Oi, whose side are you on!" Fred asks indignantly, offering up a round of half-hearted applause.

"Oh, shove off," Alicia says distractedly, eyes darting to Charlie Weasley as the dragon handlers return to swap out the dragons, "We're obviously going to be cheering for Harry, too."

"Yeah, they're both Hogwarts champions, knobhead!" Angelina laughs without looking back.

Marjorie watches as little of the next two champions as possible -- not down to lack of interest or any lack of talent from the champions, but rather because she really does think that all the knife-edge danger is going to give her a panic attack. She catches glimpses of their performances through the gaps in her fingers, and what little she sees certainly seems impressive.

Finally, it's Harry's turn. The dragon they lead out for him looks bigger and even more ferocious than all the other ones combined; Lee Jordan gives a low, admiring whistle at the sight of it. "Blimey." He says softly, "That's a Hungarian Horntail!"

The name means nothing to Marjorie, but it doesn't have to-- she can tell just from the look of it that Harry seems to have drawn the short straw in terms of dragon opponents. All around her the crowd begins murmuring; Harry's reputation and name precedes him, and everyone is eager to see how he fares.

When Harry steps out into the arena, Marjorie feels like she might burst into tears. All of the champions had looked small when faced with the bulk of their dragons, but Harry is by far the smallest. He looks so painfully young, visibly swallowing back his nerves as he stares down the enormous beast in front of him.

"Come on, Harry!" Fred roars, and his call is picked up and echoed by several in the crowd.

Harry begins to take several cautious steps forward, under the vicious yellow eyes of the Hungarian Horntail. After a moment of indecision he raises his wand and casts a spell, though he's far enough away that the incantation is inaudible.

"What did he say?" Angelina demands, clutching at her scarf. As much as she had been teasing Marjorie earlier for her nerves, she looks distinctly weak herself.

Harry's plan reveals itself in mere moments, however, as his Firebolt hurtles over the top of the arena and into his waiting hands. Just in time, too, as the Horntail has apparently tired of waiting for Harry to make the first move, and readies herself to attack. Harry launches himself onto his broom and takes to the sky as the Horntail lunges after him.

"He's going to be killed!" Marjorie panics, barely able to bring herself to peek through her fingers.

"Don'tworry, Marjie, Harry's not going to go down easy." Fred assuresher, though he doesn't sound all that relaxed himself. Marjorie is soanxious that she can't even bring herself to take issue with thenickname.

"How is this ethical?" She wails, flinching as the dragon lashes its spiked tail in Harry's direction and causes him to roll midair.

The crowd roars and cheers and winces with every move Harry makes as he struggles to draw the dragon away from the egg. Hermione is howling advice that Harry has no chance of hearing, her cries carried away by the distance and the noise from the other spectators. Even Ron seems to have forgotten whatever disagreement had torn him and Harry apart for the past several weeks; he's roaring so fervently in support of Harry that his hat has been knocked askew and his face is turning puce.

The dragon rears up, spreads its leathery wings, and launches itself up in pursuit of Harry. As its great fanged mouth opens wide, Harry dives towards the eggs, hand outstretched. The crowd takes a collective intake of breath and then releases it in a great collective howl of celebration as Harry snatches the Golden Egg right from under the dragon.

"He's done it, he's done it, he's done it!" The boys chant behind them, near mindless with glee as the girls practically stagger into each other with relief.

"If the rest of the tournament is like that, I think my heart will give out!" Marjorie cries, though her voice is drowned out by the roaring cheers of the crowd.

* * *

The party in Gryffindor tower that night is nothing short of wild.

Marjorie, who has never been to a party before, is quickly overwhelmed by the number of people and the drinks and the cheering and the snacks. Fred and George not only appear to have raided the kitchens, but also have managed to source six large bottles of Firewhiskey, which they're handing out with great enthusiasm as they roar toasts to Harry's name. Harry himself sits pride of place in the centre of the common room, looking positively exhausted but grinning at the festivities all the same. He must be fit to fall over from tiredness, but seems to be holding himself together with sheer determined stubbornness since Ron came to sit with him, their disagreement apparently put behind them.

Marjorie has never had Firewhiskey before, but as she sat there with her legs tucked under her on the couch surrounded by the girls, she felt brave enough to give it a go. Now, she finds her head rested on the back of the couch, staring at the ceiling as her head spins and her throat burns. It's not necessarily an unpleasant feeling, but it's unfamiliar and Marjorie isn't used to feeling like a stranger in her own head. She thinks she might be a little drunk.

"That was some unbelievable flying!" Katie is shouting; the Firewhiskey appears to have made her temporarily deaf, as she keeps getting progressively louder and louder the more she drinks, blissfully unaware of her own volume. "Just incredible! I think the spectacle of that alone might actually make up for the lack of Quidditch this year!"

Angelina boos loudly, shaking her head so vehemently she appears to make herself dizzy. "The audacity-! I'm telling Oliver you said that!" She turns and catches sight of Oliver Wood, who's nursing a butterbeer in the corner and chatting exuberantly with another Gryffindor seventh year. "Oliver! You'll never guess what Katie's just- umph!"

Angelina is unceremoniously cut off as Katie launches herself across the couch to cover her mouth with a hand -- the Firewhiskey has impaired her co-ordination, apparently, as she ends up accidentally punching Angelina right across the jaw. Marjorie watches, wide-eyed, and clutches her cup to her chest as Angelina roars a battle-cry and tackles Katie to the ground. Alicia sips on her butterbeer and watches with an expression of great interest, as though the girls brawling on the floor of the common room was commonplace.

Though she's sure no one can hear her, Marjorie says "Er- I think I'm going to find Neville!" and hastily gets up from the couch. It's only once she's on her feet, however, that her head begins to truly swim. Powering through, she peers around the crowded room and just manages to catch sight of Neville chatting with Seamus.

The trip across the common room is unexpectedly perilous, with Marjorie just barely managing to avoid the stray elbows that keep swinging her way and the people that seem determined to trod on her toes. She's made it almost half-way there before she's waylaid; an arm is thrown around her shoulders as she's whirled around, and it takes her a disorienting moment before she realises that she's looking into the face of Fred.

"More Firewhiskey, Marjie?" He asks cheerfully, brandishing a bottle that's still just over half-full.

"Er-" Marjorie knows she really shouldn't have any more, but before she can come up with a polite refusal Fred has already refilled her cup. "Oh, thank you."

"Enjoying the party?"

"It's very nice," Marjorie smiles, struggling to hide her wince as she sips on her Firewhiskey. "I've never had Firewhiskey before -- I'm still not sure if I like it or not."

"Really?" Fred grins, spinning the bottle in his hands, "You're a Firewhiskey virgin?"

Marjorie's face goes up in flames as she chokes on her Firewhiskey, mortified. She coughs and splutters, only getting more flustered as Fred starts to laugh. "Don't- don't say it like that!" She manages to choke out.

Fred only laughs harder. His nose crinkles up when he laughs, and Marjorie finds herself fixated on that tiny detail in her drunken state. "Nothing to be ashamed of," He says, still chuckling, "Glad I could give you your first."

Marjorie is sweating both from the heat of her embarrassment and from the crowded room. "I think I need some air." She says, stepping away and planning on beating a hasty retreat.

"Oh? I'll go with you, I could use some myself."

After a brief hesitation, Marjorie nods and leads the way out of the common room. She's definitely tipsy, and can feel herself weaving as she picks her way through the crowd of people. At one stage she bumps into someone's back and ricochets into Fred's chest, but he just waves off her apologies with a laugh and pushes her forward towards the portrait hole. By the time they finally climb out and the Fat Lady swings shut behind them, Marjorie is feeling a little light-headed.

"You alright?" Fred carefully pulls the cup from her grasp as she leans against the wall, oblivious to the way the Fat Lady eyes them both suspiciously.

"Mhm."

"Going to be sick?"

"No." Marjorie mumbles, then reconsiders with a frown. "I don't know."

"Alright, take it easy." Fred says, more gently than she would have expected from him. "Have you eaten?"

"Not since breakfast," Marjorie confesses, tilting her head back and marveling at the portraits above her, who are eyeing her right back with mingled curiosity and disapproval, "I was too nervous."

"Alright, come on then," Fred says, very obviously trying to bite back a grin. "George has gone back down to the kitchens to get more food; why don't we meet him there?"

"Don't laugh at me!" Marjorie whines even as he begins to guide her down the corridor, "I don't like it when people laugh at me!"

"Alright, alright," He agrees easily, clearly with no intention of keeping that promise. "Come on, quickly. McGonagall will do her nut in if she finds us."

Marjorie follows along obediently, right up until they reach one of the moving staircases. She stops dead at the top, staring wide-eyed at Fred. "What are you doing?"

"What?" He pauses a step below her to squint at her. Even with Marjorie a step up, he's considerably taller than her. "What are you talking about, let's go."

"You're going to throw me down the stairs." Marjorie takes a cautious step back, her tipsy mind running in great circles.

"I'm going to what?" Fred asks exasperatedly, peering around as though expecting Filch to pop out from around a corner any second. He takes her hand and tugs at it. "Why would I do that? Come on, Longbottom, quickly-"

Slowly and mistrustfully, Marjorie allows him to pull her down the staircase. Once they reach the bottom Fred begins to move swiftly, practically hauling her along as they venture into a part of the castle Marjorie has never been before. She gazes around curiously, much to Fred's exasperation as he tries to hurry her along; they must be near the heart of the castle, as the stone halls are comfortably warm and hung with colourful tapestries. They pass several nooks and crannies filled with candles, busts of long-forgotten faces, and intricate suits of armour. Marjorie peers into one nook as they pass and jerks back, startled, at the sight of a woman's face staring blankly back at her. Fred pulls her on, oblivious, and when she throws a look over her shoulder she finds no one in sight.

It feels as though it takes ages, but eventually they come to a stop in front of a large square painting of a bowl of fruit. Marjorie stares at it blankly, her thoughts slow and hazy. "Um-?" She begins, but falls silent as Fred reaches out and tickles the painted pear with two fingers.

The pear giggles coquettishly, and promptly turns into a large green doorknob. Fred chuckles at the astonishment that is plainly written across Marjorie's face. "Well, in you go then." He says, opening the door and dropping into a mock bow.

Marjorie shuffles forward and feels her mouth drop open as they enter the kitchens; the high-ceilinged room is enormous, clearly made to mirror the Great Hall just above it. Five identical tables are set out just like the House tables in the Hall, and at each one there are dozens of house elves working away. Brass pots and pans and cookware are heaped on shelves and stoves around the room, and a large open fire crackles on the far side of the room.

"Master Wheezy!"

Several house elves have noticed their arrival, and Marjorie watches with wide eyes as they hurry forward with large excited smiles to greet them. "Hullo, hullo," Fred says cheerfully, beaming back at them as they crowd around the two of them. "How are we? My friend Marjie here is feeling a little peaky, I was wondering if you might have something for her to nibble on?" He needn't have even finished his sentence -- before he was even halfway finished speaking, several house elves had gone scampering off to help. Fred watches them go fondly, before craning his neck to look around the room. "Let's see, where's- Ah! There he is."

George is lounging by the fire, helping the house-elves wrap up a basket full of snacks and desserts. When he spots them, his eyebrows raise so high they practically disappear into his hair. "What's this, then?" He asks, beginning to grin when he sees Marjorie stumble a little into one of the tables. "Uh oh. Too much Firewhiskey?"

"It's my fault," Fred laments in an overly-dramatic voice, "I went too fast, and it was only her first time."

“Her first time?" George adopts the same mournful tone as his twin without missing a beat, "Ah, bless her."

"You said you wouldn't laugh at me!" Marjorie protests as the twins begin to chuckle together.

"Sorry, love, couldn't resist." Fred says cheerfully, completely unconcerned by the scowl growing on Marjorie's face.

"Maybe you should sit down, eh?" George asks, standing up and gesturing at his stool.

A house elf runs up to them carrying an enormous tray of scones over her head, stopping just in front of Marjorie and peering up at her. "Food for Miss Marjie!" She squeaks, glancing between the three of them with enormous brown eyes.

"Oh, wow," Marjorie breathes, staring at the elf, "You're so cute. She's so cute," She says to Fred and George, pointing out the elf in case they missed her. To the elf, she says, "Hello! What's your name?"

"I am Dizzy, miss!"

"Oh, I am too, a little." Marjorie confesses, falling into George's vacated stool in front of the fire. She nearly overbalances, because the stool is very small (clearly designed for someone of a house-elf's stature), but she manages to regain her balance just in time. George starts snickering and turns away in a weak attempt to hide it, but Marjorie doesn't notice; Dizzy has just presented the tray to her, and she carefully picks out a freshly-baked scone still warm from the oven. "Thank you, Dizzy, I love you."

Dizzy looks startled but pleased by this drunken declaration. "Dizzy is happy to help, miss!"

Fred and George share a look and then turn swiftly away from one another. "So," says George, his voice choked with poorly suppressed laughter. "Did the party get boring?"

"Nah, Marjorie just needed some air. Figured some food would do her some good, too. Plus, you were taking ages."

"They were just wrapping the food for me!" George protests indignantly, "As if you'd be any faster!"

"Angelina and Katie were fighting on the common room floor." Marjorie says around a mouthful of scone, a step behind in the conversation.

The twins both swung around to look at her. "They got into a fistfight and we missed it?"

"Mhm."

"Who was winning?" Fred demands.

"Dunno." Marjorie swallows her mouthful of scone and finds herself wishing for a glass of water. No sooner has the thought crossed her mind does Dizzy appear, carrying a quaint little tea set. "Oh, thank you!"

"My money's on Angelina." says George as he reaches for a cup of tea for himself.

"Oh yeah?" Fred smirks, "Three sickles?"

"You're on."

Marjorie ignores them, still gazing enraptured at the house elves. There's just so many of them, with their floppy pointed ears and enormous bulbous eyes and spindly little limbs. They're not really cute, but they just seem so innocent and eager to help that Marjorie feels her heart squeeze whenever she looks at them. "I love them!" She whispers to herself, but of course the twins hear too.

"Alright, alright, we should probably get you to bed." George says, reaching down to help her back to her feet. "The girls must be looking for you now."

Marjorie doubts it, somehow, but sets the tea down and allows George to haul her up. She's a little wobbly on her feet still, but the scones and tea have definitely done wonders for clearing her mind; at the very least, she's now clear-headed enough to begin to feel embarrassed. The house elves follow them to the door, pressing extra packages of food into the already overflowing basket in George's arms.

"Goodbye! Goodnight!" Marjorie says eagerly to the elves, beaming as they shake her hand and wave all three of them into the corridor. By the time the kitchen door swings shut behind them, her Firewhiskey-induced nausea has disappeared and been replaced with a good-natured fatigue. "Oh, that was wonderful!"

"Yeah?" George grins, sharing a look with Fred over her head. "Don't think I've ever seen anyone so happy to see a house elf."

The boys each take one of her arms and begin leading her right back the way they had come. The journey back to the common room is much faster this time; though the twins are cautious every time they round corners and are very vigilant about being caught, they move through the halls with an ease that clearly comes from years of experience traversing the castle at night. Marjorie really doesn't think that it's necessary for them to both be physically leading her along the way, but she doesn't bother to put up a fuss about it.

By the time they reach the common room and climb in through the portrait hole, the party seems to be winding down a little though there are still dozens of students in various states of inebriation keeping up the celebrations. There's a round of cheers when the twins reappear, George hoisting up the basket of food triumphantly for everyone to see.

They've barely even stepped into the room properly before Alicia comes barrelling over, almost tripping over the rug on her way. "There you are!" She exclaims, grasping for Marjorie's arm. "We've been so worried! The girls thought they'd frightened you away with their fighting!

"Oh." Marjorie says, a little mollified by her concern. "Really?"

"Just took her out for a bit of air, Spinnet, nothing to worry about." Fred says airily, patting Marjorie on the shoulder before nudging George. "Ready to get this party restarted, George?"

"When you are, Fred."

"Goodnight, ladies!" They say in unison, and march off into the centre of the common room to pass out snacks and unstopper yet another bottle of Firewhiskey.

Alicia watches them go, then looks back to Marjorie with wide eyes. "What was that all about?"

"Hm?" Marjorie yawns; all of the adrenaline and the nerves from today are beginning to catch up with her, and the buzz from the Firewhiskey is beginning to make her feel unbearably sleepy. "All what?"

Alicia looks at her appraisingly, although as she's still quite tipsy herself she just ends up squinting oddly at her. "We'll talk about it tomorrow." She says, trying to sound firm but slurring a little. "Let's get to bed."


	7. VII

The next morning, Marjorie wakes with an uncomfortably dry mouth and a pounding headache. She thinks that she would be quite content to lay there for the rest of her life, but the sun is streaming through the curtain directly into her face and her stomach is grumbling quite unhappily. Once she sits up she has to remain very carefully still with her eyes scrunched shut, trying to work out if she's going to be sick or not. 

As soon as she decides that she's probably going to be fine, she opens her eyes and squints around the dorm. Angelina is still asleep, though her upper half hangs almost entirely off the bed onto the floor. Katie is also sleeping, with her mouth wide open and what looks like the beginning of a nasty black eye beginning to bruise her left cheek. Alicia doesn't appear to be in the room at all.

Marjorie clambers out of bed and begins to get dressed, though it seems to take twice as long as usual. The girls still show no sign of stirring by the time she's fully dressed, so she slips out of the dormitories and down to breakfast by herself. It's a Saturday, so the castle is quiet just about everywhere but the Great Hall, which is packed to the brim with students (both from Hogwarts and foreign) who are all quite cheerfully stuffing their faces with food.

It's a bit of a relief to see all the exhausted and rather haggard faces at Gryffindor table, as Marjorie can at least assure herself that she's not the only one feeling distinctly miserable after too much Firewhiskey. In fact, judging by how _some_ people look, she thinks she's actually gotten off quite lightly with her own hangover. Upon closer inspection, she can see that the rumpled appearances are mirrored at the Hufflepuff table -- clearly, they had been just as eager to celebrate their champion as Gryffindor had been.

Marjorie spots her cousin sitting on his own, and makes a beeline straight for him. It's like Neville _senses_ her approaching him, because he doesn't even look up as he says "Morning, Maggie" and holds out a cup of tea for her, made exactly how she likes it.

"Oh, thank you, Nev!" Marjorie murmurs gratefully, taking a generous gulp and then cradling the hot cup in her hands. "Good night?"

"Oh yeah, pretty good." Neville says casually, peering at an article about proper cauldron care in _Witch Weekly_ as he picks at his breakfast. "Not as good as yours though, I'd reckon."

Marjorie pauses in the process of loading her breakfast plate up with hash browns. "What's that mean?"

Neville finally looks up at her, and he's _visibly_ trying hard not to laugh. "I saw you drinking _Firewhiskey_ , Maggie! And wobbling all around the common room!"

"Everyone was drinking Firewhiskey!" Marjorie defends herself immediately, and then glances around her in a panic in case McGonagall just happened to be walking by. "And I wasn't _wobbling!"_

Neville just giggles and turns back to his magazine. "I'm just saying, I've never seen you like that before. Imagine what Gran would say." The two of them give identical exaggerated shivers of horror, and then laugh at each other.

"Neville Longbottom, when I catch you drunk on Firewhiskey I will never let it go."

"' _When'_ , not _if_?" Neville laughs, sipping at his pumpkin juice.

"No, I know I'll catch you out."

Neville just grins, flipping a page in _Witch Weekly_. "I'm not making fun of you, you know, I'm just glad you enjoyed yourself. You looked happy."

"Yeah, well." Marjorie sips at her tea and smiles. "I had a nice time."

"I think Seamus must have been drunker than I first thought." Neville murmurs with another little laugh. "He was swearing up and down that he saw you leave with one of the Weasley twins!"

Marjorie chokes on her tea, and then tries to cover it up by pretending to sneeze violently. "Oh, excuse me!" She flusters, fidgeting with her napkin. She hadn't forgotten her impromptu little trip to the kitchens, though she _had_ been trying very hard not to think about it because the thoughts of how embarrassing her drunken behaviour must have been was just a little too hard to handle. "Oh, er-"

"I told him that you would never do that, of course." Neville says matter-of-factly, mopping up some of the tea that Marjorie had spilled on her own blouse. "Especially since she's made such a big deal of avoiding them her entire time in school, and that even if she had, by chance, made friends with them, she would _surely_ have told he favourite cousin in the whole world-"

"Oh, Neville, stop that!" Marjorie can't help but laugh. "I wouldn't say that I'm _friends_ with them, but, well, they're- well, they're alright, I suppose, aren't they?"

Neville just sips at his tea and peers at her over the rim of his cup. 

"Stop looking at me like that, nothing happened!" Marjorie whispered, turning red under his gaze.

It's now Neville's turn to choke on his tea, pounding at his chest swiftly in an attempt to get himself under control. " _What?_ I wasn't suggesting something _happened_ \- What would have _happened_ -?!"

"Nothing!" Marjorie whisper-shouts, panicked at the direction the conversation has taken. " _Merlin_ , nothing at all-!"

"Did- did they _try_ something-?"

" _No!"_

"Merlin's _pants_ , I didn't even know you _saw them_ like that-"

"I _don't-!"_

"Morning!" Ron Weasley greets them cheerfully as he sinks down onto the bench next to Marjorie, closely followed by Harry and Hermione. "Could you pass the beans, Neville?"

"Morning!" Marjorie says, her voice so high that it's practically a screech.

Ron just blinks at her, suprised, though his attention is quickly drawn away as Neville hands over the container of beans. "Everyone had a good night, then?"

Neville is still staring wide-eyed at her, so it's all Marjorie can do to force a smile and a rather strained "Oh, yes!". Ron seems entirely oblivious to the tension, and turns back to engage Harry in conversation.

"Let's not mention this again." Marjorie mumbles quietly, her cheeks still flushed hot from embarrassment.

"Yeah." Neville throws back the last of his tea like a shot, sounding distinctly strained. "Right."

In the days that follow Harry's victory in the First Task, it seems that all anyone can talk about is the upcoming Yule Ball. Marjorie forces a smile and nods along whenever it comes up in conversation, but even the thought of it makes her feel sick with nerves. No one has ever shown the slightest bit of interest in her in all her years at Hogwarts, and she really can't imagine that changing in time for the Yule Ball.

"If Lee doesn't ask me soon, I'm going to break into his dorm and put Flobberworms in his underwear drawer." Alicia says sulkily, scowling across the classroom at Lee Jordan, who's chatting away with a group of friends and doesn't notice her attempts at telepathic coercion.

Angelina snickers, and then buries her head in her schoolbag to try and hide her laughter. "He'll get round to it, I'm sure. He's probably just shy."

" _Shy?"_ Alicia repeats, voice dripping with derision. "When have you _ever_ known Lee Jordan to be _shy_?"

She's got a point there, though Marjorie doesn't say so. She's also looking at the group of boys across the room, gaze drawn to Fred and George Weasley. They're snickering, taking it in turns to point their wands at Ron and causing his robes to elongate by several inches each time. By the time Ron finally goes to take a step away, he trips over his overlarge robes and fall flat on his face, causing his brothers and all the boys standing nearby to howl with laughter.

Marjorie hates to admit it, even to herself, but ever since that night in the kitchens she was looking at the twins... a little differently. The first big change was that she was actually looking their way at all; in all her previous years, the only time she had ever looked at them was to make sure that she was a sufficient distance away from them. The second change was that she was _noticing_ things about them, stupid little things. She noticed the way their stupid long hair fell into their eyes, and how Fred would try to blow his out of the way instead of just brushing it aside with his hand, she noticed how George would reach out and clutch whoever was closest to him whenever he laughed too hard as though he needed the support just to stay upright -- it was usually Fred that he grabbed, and Fred would allow him to hang on before dumping him on the ground right when he was least expecting it -- somehow this would always take George by surprise. She didn't know _what_ was wrong with her, but she knew she was embarrassed by it -- surely it was _creepy_ , to be watching and noticing things like this.

"Right," McGonagall calls from the front of the class. She had called a rather impromptu meeting of sorts for all Gryffindor students from fourth year up to discuss the upcoming Yule Ball, and judging by the stern expression on her face she's taking the whole thing dead seriously. With a swift flick of her wand she sets Ron's robes right and gives the twins a sharp look before continuing on. "As I'm _sure_ you all know, the Yule Ball has been a tradition of the-" She casts a rather impatient look back at Filch, who's fiddling noisily with an enormous and ancient-looking Muggle music contraption, and conspicuously raises her voice to be heard over the static, "Of the Triwizard Tournament since it's inception. On Christmas Eve night, both the students of Hogwarts and our guests shall gather in the Great Hall for an evening of _well-mannered_ frivolity."

The twins grin as McGonagall casts a pointed look at them, and Fred adopts an innocent _'who, me?'_ sort of a look. McGonagall scowls a little, but keeps going nonetheless. "As representatives of both the school _and_ of Gryffindor House, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward -- and I do mean that literally as the Yule Ball is, first and foremost, a dance."

As the students begin to react to that statement, Marjorie meets Neville's eye from across the room; he looks as nervous as she feels, but there's also a distinctive glimmer of excitement in his eyes. From behind her, she hears Katie's panicked exclamation of "But I can't dance! Can you dance? Can _you_ dance?"

"Silence!" McGonagall calls, prepared to launch into lecture mode yet again, but this time Marjorie isn't listening. She was already dreading the thought of the Yule Ball because of the whole _date_ thing, but now she hears that she has to _dance?_ She doesn't think it could get any worse.

She only begins paying attention once again when she hears McGonagall's sharp "Mr Weasley! Will you join me, please?", and looks up to see Ron looking absolutely horrified as he's pulled to his feet. To Marjorie's left, Hermione begins to snicker. "Now: put your right hand on my waist."

" _Where_?" Ron whispers, aghast, looking as though McGonagall has asked him to do something unspeakable.

"My _waist_." McGonagall repeats with poorly concealed impatience, and pulls his arms into place. "Now, if you extend your arm-"

A wolf whistle cuts through the room, along with muffled snickers; while Ron looks distinctly as though he'd love nothing more than to lay into his brothers, Fred and George are watching McGonagall lead Ron through a waltz as though all their Christmases have come at once.

"Everybody on their feet, come along!"

Marjorie looks desperately around for an excuse to stay seated, even as all the other girls stand and move into the centre of the room. The boys look as reluctant as she does, although to her immense surprise it's Neville who stands first and leads the way to the middle of the room. Suddenly struck by panic at the thought of being the last person left without a partner, Marjorie bolts to her feet and tries to make a beeline for Neville -- as sad as it might be to partner with her cousin, Marjorie is certain it's not as sad as being left to learn to dance by herself.

She's too late, however -- she's barely gotten halfway to Neville before another girl has taken his arm with a self-conscious smile, and then she has to halt in the middle of the room and glance around, panicked. People are partnering up at a rapid pace, obviously having the same thought as Marjorie about being left partnerless; she sees Alicia practically adhere herself to Lee's side, who looks surprised but very pleased to see her.

"Shit." Marjorie breathes, glancing about again. Several boys glance her way and then look swiftly away, and she has to force herself not to get upset by it.

"Ready to dance, Marjie?" George announces his presence behind her by draping a casual arm on her shoulder and leaning on it -- it's all for show though, as he's careful not to actually put any weight on her. He's so much taller, he'd likely crush her. 

Marjorie blinks at him. "With you?"

"Unless you had someone else lined up?"

"No, no!" Marjorie says quickly, "No, that's fine."

George bites his lip to try and stop himself from grinning, and fails completely. "Well, come on, then."

Bewildered but undeniably pleased with this turn of events, Marjorie follows his lead in getting into position. As soon as his hand lands on her waist, she feels her face erupt into flames and has to swiftly look away to avoid meeting his eyes -- as she looks around the classroom, however, her gaze lands on Neville, who's looking at George with a suspicious frown.

"It's times like these I'm glad to be in Gryffindor, eh?" George says conversationally as he takes her right hand and places it on his shoulder, interlocking their left hands and extending them out.

"Hm?" Marjorie asks, distracted.

"Well, at least we have McGonagall," George nods towards their professor, who is loudly instructing Seamus and Sophie Roper, "Imagine being in Slytherin and getting stuck with Snape as a dance instructor."

Marjorie's face blanches at the thought, and George bursts out laughing at her expression. "I think I'd rather die." Marjorie says seriously, "Some things really are worse than death."

George only laughs harder, as though she had just told an outrageously funny joke. Some of their classmates are beginning to crane their necks to look around at them, trying to see what's so funny, and Marjorie is just beginning to get self-conscious when McGonagall restarts the music. Taking that as his cue, George promptly whisks Marjorie into a quick two-step waltz. Neither of them know the steps however, so it turns into George simply spinning Marjorie in circles as she tries very hard not to stand on his toes.

They spin passed Fred and Angelina, who are doing a much better (and slower) job at nailing the dance steps, and again past Ron fumbling his way through the steps with Hermione, who keeps wincing every time he stands on her toes. Harry is still sat at the edge of the class with his arm still in a sling from his encounter with the Hungarian Horntail, grinning wildly as he watches the chaos unfold.

"Longbottom, I think we're naturals at this." George announces proudly. Marjorie trips up on her own feet, but George is pulling them along so quickly that she doesn't even fall. Despite herself, Marjorie starts to laugh. She's sure she looks like a total idiot, stumbling after George's ridiculously long legs, but she's having so much fun that she hardly has time to feel self-conscious.

"Why are your legs so long?" Marjorie gasps, grinning wildly. Her own head just about reaches the top of his shoulder, and she has to put a lot of effort into keeping up with him.

"What, are you jealous?" George begins to take increasingly large steps, until he's virtually dragging Marjorie along behind him. "Can't blame you -- Long, luscious legs like these are pretty rare, you know."

"Mr Weasley, _slow down!"_ Mc Gonagall shouts from behind them, before George whisks Marjorie away again.

"Yeah, take it easy, Ron!" George yells as they spin passed Ron and Hermione, who are moving at a very cautious and sedate pace. 

"Mr Weasley!" McGonagall shouts again, attempting to hurry after them.

"George-" Marjorie starts to say, but then George spins her again and she starts laughing, "George, wait-"

"Ever been chased by McGonagall before?" George asks, guiding them expertly through their dancing classmates, "She can be surprisingly spry, when she wants to be."

" _Weasley!"_

George starts laughing, and it only takes one glance over Marjorie's shoulder to see why -- Professor McGonagall has started to chase after them in earnest, her robes flapping and a fierce scowl on her face. "Oh, Merlin." She says, eyes wide. "We're going to be in trouble!"

"What's a little trouble in exchange for having a laugh, eh?"

Marjorie grins, but her head is starting to spin a little. "George, I'm dizzy."

"Seems to be a running theme with you, Marjie." George snickers. He twirls her dramatically one last time before drifting to a halt. The two of them are breathing heavily and grinning; Marjorie has to hold onto his robes for extra balance as she works to regain her bearings.

In the moment that they've been standing still, McGonagall catches up to them. Her nostrils flare as she glares at George. " _Mr Weasley!"_ She hisses, "Did you not hear a _word_ said earlier?"

"I sure did, Professor." George blinks innocently at her, his chest still heaving from exertion. Marjorie's eyes follow the movement, distracted by the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he catches his breath. "Babbling, bumbling band of baboons, right?"

McGonagall looks for a moment as though she would dearly love to shove him out a window. "If you try something like that at the Yule Ball, Mr Weasley, I will make you dearly regret it." She says, voice low. Marjorie looks between the two of them with wide-eyes (having never been in trouble with Professor McGonagall before, she's met with the sudden realisation that she never, ever wants to be), and when McGonagall turns to her she jumps. "Do you need to sit down, Longbottom?"

"Er- I'm alright, Professor." Marjorie says hastily, avoiding McGonagall's eyes.

"Right then." McGonagall straightens and narrows her eyes at George once more. " _Behave_." She says, then promptly sweeps away.

George watches her go, then shakes his head somewhat fondly. "Blimey, she really reminds me of my mum sometimes."

Marjorie laughs, still a bit breathless. "I think I will sit down, actually." She decides, wobbling a little as she makes a beeline over to the chairs.

To her surprise, George follows. "Think I'd quite like to watch this disaster unfold from over here myself." He tells her when he sees her looking at him, and plops down in a chair beside her. As Marjorie's heart rate slows down again she starts to become more aware of her proximity to George, and begins to get a little self-conscious again.

The two of them look out across the room in companionable silence; Marjorie finds herself reluctantly impressed by how nice George is being to her. There aren't many people in Hogwarts who make an effort to be nice to either her or her cousin, so basic kindness tends to stand out to her.

"Neville looks like he's enjoying himself." George points out all of a sudden, nudging her and pointing in Neville's direction. He's right; Neville is standing tall and practicing the steps of the dance very carefully with his partner, taking great care to avoid trodding on her toes. He looks more relaxed than Marjorie has seen him in a long time, and she can feel her face soften as she looks at him.

"Oh, he does, doesn't he?" She says quietly, watching him move cautiously with his dance partner. "That's very sweet."

George glances at her swiftly before turning his gaze back to the dancers. "Looks like Kenneth Towler is fairly determined to break Katie's toes -- do you see how much he's stepping on her?"

Marjorie follows his gaze and giggles a little when she catches sight of Katie, who looks as though she's about to kick Kenneth very hard in a very vulnerable place if he trods on her toes one more time. She allows her own gaze to rove around, and then says, "I think Filch would like to join in."

George's head snaps around as he tries to see what she's looking at, then he starts snorting as he catches sight of the school caretaker -- Filch is nursing Mrs Norris in his arms as he sways back and forth in time with the music. His eyes are closed, apparently blissfully oblivious to his surroundings. 

"Dancing all alone, what a shame," George nudges at her side again, "Why don't you go dance with him, Marjie?"

"He's not alone, he's got Mrs Norris!" Marjorie laughs, shoving his arm. "He looks plenty happy to me!"

George grins at her, then turns back to survey the room once more. Marjorie looks away too, though her face is hot and she's sure she's flushed; George's smile is rather disarming from up close, when she can see the way his freckles spray across his nose and how the skin around his eyes crinkle up when he smiles. He has _dimples_ , for Merlin's sake.

When McGonagall finally calls a halt to the dancing, a majority of the students make a beeline straight off the floor, looking a little traumatised. Marjorie begins to shift herself, gathering up her schoolbag and preparing to leave when Fred appears right over George's shoulder.

"That was some impressive dancing, Marjie," He says with a smirk, glancing over at McGonagall, "That woman is capable of some impressive speed when she wants to, isn't she?"

"Like a young spring chicken, is our Minerva." George nods earnestly.

Marjorie laughs a little nervously and glances McGonagall's way, paranoid of being overheard by her. "Yes, well, I think George could probably outrun a Nogtail if he wanted to."

George throws his head back and laughs, clearly delighted with this assessment even as Fred rolls his eyes. "Don't go saying that, Longbottom, he'll get a big head." Fred says, shoving his twin's head.

"Jealousy is a disease, Freddie." George pushes him back, still chuckling, "She likes my long, sexy legs too! Don't you, Longbottom?"

Marjorie flushes hard, mortified. "I-I never said that!"

Fred starts to laugh too, and now the both of them are laughing as the colour rises in her face. "No need to be embarrassed, Marjie." says Fred, "We _do_ have a fantastic set of legs."

"Right!" Marjorie squeaks out, hauling her bag over her shoulder, "I'm leaving!"

The twins howl with laughter as she walks away from them, flustered. Marjorie exhales slowly to calm herself as she leaves the classroom, ignoring the laughter echoing behind her. She knows her little crush is stupid, and she can only hope that she manages to get over it before she embarrasses herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So I want to say an enormous thank you to everyone who's left such wonderful comments and left kudos on the story so far, it's so encouraging and lovely to see that people are enjoying it!
> 
> I am still trying to decide on a pairing (i'm literally so indecisive, bc i'm a massive sl*t for BOTH of them) so i'm sorry for asking again but i would very much value your opinion in this! The choice is between Fred, or George, or both!
> 
> As always, I very much love to hear from you guys. If you have any suggestions or ideas or anything you'd quite like to see, please don't be afraid to let me know!


	8. XIII

Time seems to pass twice as quickly as it usually does in the weeks coming up to Christmas, until the Yule Ball is virtually staring Marjorie in the face. Her usual tactic of simply ignoring everyone when they talking about dates or dresses or dancing was beginning to slowly fail as the ball becomes all _anyone_ wanted to talk about. Even Neville, who she could _always_ count on to cheer her up, was finding it increasingly difficult to talk about anything other than the ball ever since he had asked Ginny Weasley to go with him.

"Oh, why don't _you_ ask someone out rather than waiting for someone to ask you?" Alicia asks reasonably, shuffling her Transfiguration essay around on the rug in front of the fire. 

Angelina, who also doesn't have a date yet, scowls at her, irritated. "Easy for _you_ to say! You don't have to worry about it anymore, do you?"

Alicia shrugs, a smug smile settling on her face. Lee Jordan had finally managed to pluck up the courage to ask her to the ball that morning, and she had been borderline insufferable about it all day. "I'm just _saying-"_

But whatever Alicia was saying was cut off by a shout of " _Oi, Angelina!"_

All three girls turned around to see Fred Weasley on the other side of the common room, standing with Harry and Ron. Angelina blinks at him, obviously a little surprised at the interruption. "What?" she calls back.

"Want to come to the ball with me?" Fred asks, a grin beginning to creep its way across his face. Other students sitting around the common room glance back and forth between the two groups, obviously eager to see this play out.

Angelina looks him up and down thoughtfully, a smile of her own beginning to grow on her face. "Alright, then." She calls back, then turns back to face Marjorie and Alicia with a little grin on her face. "Well. Guess that's _that_ sorted."

Marjorie is still looking across the room at Fred, but she turns back to give a supportive sort of smile to her dorm mate. She can't help but feel a little disappointed, which is _ridiculous_ because it's not as though Fred Weasley was ever realistically going to ask _her_.

Alicia squeals, looking nothing short of thrilled, but doesn't even get the chance to say anything before Katie is scurrying over, looking flushed with excitement. "Guess what just happened!" She hisses as she reaches the group.

"What?" Alicia sits up eagerly.

"I was in the library just now, and Kenneth Towler just came up to me and asked me to the Yule Ball!" Katie's grin is practically splitting her face as she delivers her news and throws herself down on the couch next to Marjorie, who feels her stomach sink dramatically.

"Nice one, Katie!" Angelina congratulates her, mirroring her excited smile.

"Fred's just asked Angelina!" Alicia says, keeping her voice low even as she practically vibrates on the spot. "Oh, this is so exciting! Looks like we're all sorted, then!"

"Wait, we have to sort Marjorie!" Angelina points out before Alicia gets too carried away.

"Oh, no." Marjorie says hurriedly as the girls turn to look at her, "No, don't worry about me!"

"Don't be silly, Marjorie, we'd love to help!" Katie beams, "I'm pretty sure Tolliver from Ravenclaw is still looking for someone to ask!"

"Or Jonathan Stebbins from Hufflepuff?" Alicia chimes in, but Angelina shakes her head.

"No, Stebbins is going with Serafina Fawcett."

"Really, it's fine!" Marjorie says again, embarrassed now. It's hard not to feel a little pathetic, listening to the girls try so hard to think of someone that might bring her. "I actually wasn't sure if I was going to go at all."

The looks the girls give her at that declaration are full of nothing short of unbridled horror. " _What_?" Alicia demands, aghast.

"Don't be silly, Marjorie." Angelina speaks over Alicia, "There hasn't been a Yule Ball at Hogwarts in _years_ , you have to go! How could we go and have a good time without you there?"

Marjorie is rather surprised at this sweet sentiment from Angelina, and can't help but feel a little emotional at the thought that the girls might actually want her there. "Oh. Well. I suppose I'll think about it, then."

The ball is only a week away, and Marjorie still doesn't have a partner. It's not the end of the world -- she can go by herself, after all, it shouldn't be that big a deal, but it _is_ a big deal when everyone all around her is partnering up. She wishes she had more confidence, so she could go to the ball with no date and simply own her decision rather than worry constantly that people were judging her because no one wanted to go with her.

"Are you alright?" Cedric murmurs to her, softly so that Flitwick can't overhear.

"Hm?" Marjorie jolts, startled. She had been utterly lost in her own thoughts, barely taking in a single word Flitwick had said the whole class. "Oh, yes, of course! I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Cedric says easily, still looking a little concerned. "You seem distracted today."

That's definitely an understatement -- they're supposed to be changing the colour of each other's robes, and so far Cedric has been doing a truly exemplary job of turning Marjorie's robes banana yellow while she stood there staring off into the distance.

"I suppose I am, a bit." She smiles apologetically. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's fine, really!" Cedric waves her apologies away. "Did you want to take a turn charming my robes?"

"Right, yes." Marjorie readies her wand, wishing she had paid more attention to Flitwick's instructions. "Er- what was the incantation again?"

" _Colovaria."_ Cedric looks a little bemused, but smiles encouragingly at her all the same.

Marjorie looks down quickly, fighting back a blush at the sight of his smile. _Why is he so_ ** _nice?_** , she thinks, desperately trying not to look at his dimples. " _Colovaria!"_ She flourishes her wand, but her hands are a little sweaty from nerves and her wand motion must have been too aggressive because her wand flies out of her hand and smacks Cedric right in the chest.

As soon as the wand hits Cedric it emits sparks, and one of the sparks catches on his robes. Cedric yelps as the front of his robes catch fire, and Marjorie echoes his yelp out of sheer horror. "I'm so sorry!" Marjorie cries, covering her mouth as Cedric curses and pulls his robes over his head, throws them on the ground, and stamps the flames out.

"It's okay, Marjorie." Cedric assures her, but his voice sounds a little strangled. Luckily, he had been wearing a Muggle jumper and trousers beneath his wizards robes, which he adjusts as he stares wide-eyed at his still-smoking school robes.

"Oh my!" Flitwick hurries over to survey the damage, looking worried. Over his head, Marjorie can see Fred and George clutching each other as they sink to the floor, howling with laughter. "What happened?"

Cedric and Marjorie share a look. "Er-" Marjorie begins guiltily, "I set Cedric on fire, sir. But it was an accident, I swear!"

"It really was just a simple mistake, Professor." Cedric chimes in, picking up his charred robes. 

Flitwick sighs, and Marjorie can tell by the way he's looking at her that he's wondering what he should do with her. "Right... Longbottom, it's probably best if you practice the Colour Changing Charm on robes that are not being worn."

"Yes, Professor." She says meekly, mortified. As soon as Flitwick moves on, she whirls on Cedric. "Merlin's beard, I am _so sorry, Cedric!"_

"Don't worry about it, really." He says earnestly. "It was probably my fault, really -- I mean, you did tell me you were distracted."

Marjorie buries her face in her hands, genuinely quite upset. She was so busy being selfishly worried about something as trivial as a _ball_ that she actually managed to _set one of the most popular boys in school on fire_ , and on top of that he was somehow managing to blame himself for her own ineptitude? She thinks she would actually have preferred him to shout at her.

"Oh, shi- no, Marjorie, don't get upset." Cedric says hastily, moving forward to pat her awkwardly on the shoulder. "I mean it, it's not a big deal at all. Mistakes happen, yeah? And honestly, I've been meaning to buy some new school robes anyway. Those have been getting a bit small for me."

" _Oi_ , Diggory, you making girls cry now?" One of the twins calls over to them, clearly amused.

Marjorie takes her face out of her hands just so she can glare at them, furious that they're making the situation worse. Cedric glances over at them too, but shakes his head and turns back to Marjorie. "Ignore them, they're just trying to wind us up."

"It's working." Marjorie grumbles, looking down with a sigh. "I really am sorry, Cedric. I don't know why I'm so rubbish at magic -- it just really doesn't come naturally to me."

The bell for lunch goes off right as Cedric stoops to pick up her wand and holds it out to her. "There are lots of different kinds of magic in the world." He says lightly, smiling when he meets her gaze, "There's always gonna be something out there for you, so long as you keep looking."

Marjorie takes a deep breath, then straightens the ribbon holding her hair back and smiles back at Cedric. "Yeah. Thank you, Cedric. And, um, I'll pay for new robes for you. I insist, actually."

Cedric just laughs and shakes his head. "Don't be silly. I'll see you later."

Marjorie waves him goodbye, and gathers up her own stuff as she prepares to follow him out. She can _feel_ Fred and George's presences behind her even before she turns around, and without looking she says, "I'm really _not_ in the mood to be made fun of, so please don't."

"Always so polite, Marjie." Fred says cheerfully. "We're not going to make fun of you -- we wanted to commend you, actually."

"Yeah," George butts in, "See, we've actually been wanting to set fire to Diggory ever since that Quidditch match last year -- you remember the one?"

Marjorie finally turns, and when they see the expression on her face their smiles slowly dim. "I didn't _mean_ to set him on fire!" She says, clenching her jaw hard to try and stop herself from doing something really embarrassing, like bursting dramatically into tears. Shame is bubbling in her chest, thick and hot and stifling -- she just can't figure out why she's so awful at _everything_ , especially when she sees her classmates complete the same tasks with ease. She knows that people see her as a bit of a joke, or worse, _pity_ her, but there's just nothing she can do about it. "I really am _trying_ , but nothing ever works out right!"

"Woah-" Fred sounds slightly panicked, and glances about the classroom as though looking for help -- he's out of luck, however, as the rest of the class has already filed out of the room. "Hey, don't cry-"

"I'm _not_ crying!" Marjorie insists, but her voice is thick with unshed tears and her words come out sounding a little choked. 

"Yeah, you're the picture of composure, you are." George jokes, but his voice has gotten significantly softer. "Hey come on, there's no need to cry-"

"I'm _not crying!"_ Marjorie turns sharply and swipes at her face. "Stop saying that I'm crying or- or I'll- or I _will_ cry!"

Even though she's not looking in their direction, she just _knows_ that they're doing that stupid twin thing where they look at each other and seem to know exactly what each other is thinking. "Right." George says slowly. "Look, as far as I can see, there's nothing to be upset over. I mean, Diggory's robes were barely even charred."

"Yeah, I mean you did _way_ more damage that time you blew those Quidditch robes up, remember that?"

Marjorie turns to stare at them, speechless. "That- that doesn't really help, actually."

"Does it not?" Fred looks to George, "I thought we were doing an alright job at the whole cheering up thing."

"How about hot chocolate?" George suggests, "Mum always makes hot chocolate when one of us has a breakdown at home."

"I'm not having a breakdown." Marjorie protests, though it's half-hearted at best. "Look, please just forget about it. I'm just- I'm overreacting-"

"Nope." Fred takes her bag and slings it over his shoulder, "It's decided -- come on, then."

Grinning, George links his arm through hers and tugs her after Fred. Marjorie's too tired and embarrassed to start protesting, so she just goes along quietly, trying to make herself small and unnoticeable as they make their way through the corridors to the Great Hall. They're a little later than usual, so the corridors are quiet since they've missed the lunch rush. By the time they reach the Great Hall and get to the Gryffindor table, almost everyone has already begun to tuck into their meals.

Neville looks up from his own lunch as Marjorie takes a seat next to him, and squints a little when he sees Fred and George right behind her. He watches as they sit next to her and begin fussing over finding hot chocolate, but apparently decides to just pretend that they aren't even there. "Gran sent you a package, Maggie. I left it in your dormitory."

"Oh, thank you, Nev." Marjorie says with a little smile. "What was it?"

"I think it's a dress. For the ball, you know."

Marjorie's smile slips a little -- she probably could have done without the reminder of the upcoming event, but that wasn't Neville's fault. Her cousin is already looking at her with an expression of faint concern (he can tell better than anyone when she's upset, after all) so she hitches her smile back up and says, "Ah, that's wonderful. Thanks, Neville."

"Oi, Marjie, get that into ya." Fred sets down a mug that's filled to the brim and damn near overflowing with whipped cream. 

Marjorie takes it with a smile and a quiet ' _thanks'_ , but Neville glances between the mug to the twins to Marjorie with narrowed eyes. "You didn't put anything weird in it, did you?" He asks, uncharacteristically distrustful. Marjorie had lifted the mug to her mouth, but slowly lowers it as she turns to blink at the twins -- she hadn't even considered they might do something like that, but it did seem like their idea of a funny joke.

They looked identically offended at the accusation, and George put his hand to his chest in mock outrage. " _Us?_ Now why would we do that, Longbottom?"

"Yeah, we're just trying to cheer the poor girl up." Fred adds, affecting an expression of grievous hurt, "It's not our fault she was crying all over us after Charms."

"Crying?" Neville asks, startled. Her turns to Marjorie immediately, wide-eyed. "Why were you crying, Maggie?"

"I-I wasn't!" Marjorie says quickly. The last thing she needs is for Neville to go into a righteous protective fury. "Really!"

"Might as well just tell him, Marjorie." George says rather unhelpfully, "I'm sure everyone will be talking about it in less than an hour, anyway."

Marjorie feels distinctly cornered -- Neville is staring at her with his big, concerned brown eyes, the twins are still grinning at the memory of her accidentally lighting Cedric on fire, and she can _feel_ the eyes of other people in the Great Hall landing on her. George is right; with the speed of gossip in Hogwarts, it'll take no time at all for the story of her setting fire to Cedric's robes to travel around. Marjorie swallows hard. "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Maggie-" Neville starts, reaching out a hand to her, but Marjorie has already jumped to her feet and made a beeline straight out of the Great Hall. She pauses in the Entrance Hall and leans against the stone wall, breathing deeply. 

It's a little silly, really, how upset she's getting over this. She's not good at Charms, everyone knows that, and she's definitely had far worse mishaps in Potions. But even so, it's so much worse because it was _Cedric Diggory_ , who she'd maybe had a bit of a crush on ever since _first year_ , who was _Hogwarts champion_ , and who was so stupidly nice about the whole thing that it only made her feel even guiltier. And it's _because_ it's Cedric Diggory that the news is definitely going to spread twice as fast.

She's brought out of her slow descent into panic by the sound of a group of lads laughing together, and looks up to see a group of Durmstrang boys stride past her on their way to the Great Hall. She looks down quickly, not wanting to meet their eyes, but she becomes aware of the way several of them have begun nudging one of their friends in her direction.

Marjorie doesn't look up until she realises that one of the Durmstrang boys has come to a stop right in front of her. "Oh. Um. Hello?"

"Hello." The boy says, and glances back to his friends. His accent is very thick, but lovely in an exotic sort of boy. "I am Kolya."

"Er- Marjorie." She says, blinking at him. She wonders if she should offer her hand for him to shake, but then decides that would be too awkward so she just smiles a little nervously at him instead.

"I wanted to ask you question."

"Ah. Alright." Marjorie knots her fingers together anxiously -- was he going to ask about the Charms incident? It couldn't have possibly spread to the students from the other schools already, could it?

"Will you go to ball with me?" He asks, rather unenthusiastically.

That was absolutely the last thing that Marjorie had expected to fall out of his mouth, and she finds herself staring dumbly at him with her mouth hanging open. "I- _me?"_

"Yes." Kolya nods, glancing back to his friends again, who are giving him encouraging thumbs up and grins. He is quite handsome, Marjorie thinks, looking at his long lashes and brown eyes and high cheekbones. His nose is a bit small for his face, perhaps, and his eyebrows sit strangely high on his forehead, but it's not as though Marjorie is in the position to be picky. "Most other girls have been asked already."

"Oh." Marjorie says. She thinks she probably should be a little offended that he had added that last bit in (it really was rather unnecessary), but it _was_ true and it explained perfectly why he was asking her in the first place. At least she knew he was asking her out of desperation rather than as a joke. "Er- yes. Yes, I'd like that."

For the first time since coming over, Kolya smiles. It really is quite a nice smile, Marjorie is relieved to see, and she smiles back rather excitedly. "Very good. We meet here at 8pm on night of ball?"

"Yes. Yes, perfect." Marjorie nods, still smiling. She gives a little wave as Kolya goes back to his friends, and watches as they thump him on the back in a congratulatory manner as they all enter the Great Hall. She stands in the Entrance Hall for another minute, still somewhat in shock that _someone had actually asked her to the ball!_

All her previous worries abruptly forgotten, Marjorie returns to the Great Hall feeling rather like she had missed a step on a staircase. As soon as she reaches the Gryffindor table, Neville pulls at her sleeve, looking rather horrified. "You lit _Cedric Diggory on fire?"_

"Accidentally." Marjorie says absently, eyes roving the Slytherin table to see if she could spot where Kolya and his friends had gone to. "A boy just asked me to the ball."

Angelina, who had been chatting with Oliver Wood, turns so quickly she nearly upsets her bowl of soup. "What! Who! Marjorie!"

The news successfully distracts Neville, who begins peering around at every boy in their general vicinity as though he could guess just by the look of them which one had asked her. "What, just now?"

"Mhm. He's from Durmstrang." She aims this at Angelina, though Neville swings around to stare at the Durmstrang students at the Slytherin table. "Oh, Neville, stop that."

"Is he nice, at least?" Neville asks, frowning. 

"Well- I suppose so. He seems nice enough." Marjorie shrugs, and finally picks up her hot chocolate to sip on, still smiling.

Beside her, Fred and George exchange a look then join Neville in peering over at the Slytherin table. Angelina just gives her a thumbs up, looking genuinely delighted for her. Marjorie basks in the feeling of excitement and support from Angelina, impossibly pleased that someone has _actually_ asked her to the ball and that she has someone so happy to see _her_ happy -- Marjorie thinks that she might even be able to tentatively call Angelina a friend, which is entirely new to her.

She sips on her hot chocolate, relishing the mountain of whipped cream and forgetting, if only temporarily, about all the things she had been worried about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thank you all so much for your kind comments and encouragements, they mean the world !!


	9. ix

On Christmas morning after breakfast, Marjorie finds herself wrapped up tight in a brand-new warm cloak (a Christmas gift from her grandmother) as she sits in the freezing cold greenhouse, watching Neville tend to the Leaping Toadstools. 

"-and then Professor Sprout said that she was so impressed with my interest in Herbology, that I was welcome to come to any of the greenhouses whenever I wanted!" Neville was saying as he struggled to keep the toadstools rooted in the soil -- they kept slipping through his fingers and bouncing away.

Marjorie narrowly dodges a toadstool that leaps right at her head. "That's fantastic Nev, but why'd you ask me to come?"

Neville frowns at her as though he can't quite comprehend the question. "Well, I didn't want to be on my own on Christmas."

That's a perfectly fair point, and Marjorie feels bad for asking. "Oh, well, I'm obviously delighted to spend time with you," She says, shivering a little, "But it's a bit cold, isn't it?"

"A bit, yeah." Neville snatches another toadstool out of the air as it makes a bid for freedom. His nose is bright red and a little runny, but he looks perfectly content as he pats down the dirt. "It's strange, being at Hogwarts for Christmas. Isn't it?"

Marjorie hums, tucking her face into her scarf. "Yeah, it is." She says quietly. The castle is beautiful, all done up in floating candles and stunning wreaths and garlands, but the two cousins are far more used to spending their Christmas Days in St Mungo's.

Neville finally succeeds in keeping the toadstools rooted, and sits back to remove his gloves. "I feel sort of guilty." He admits, his voice so low that Marjorie has to strain to hear. "I mean, I'm excited for the ball tonight, but I feel like I shouldn't be. Like, it's wrong to be so looking forward to something when we usually spend the day with- with them."

"Neville." Marjorie says, her voice exceptionally soft. "Don't do that to yourself. Your parents would _want_ you to have fun."

Neville stares contemplatively at the toadstools, who are now huddling together in the soil for warmth. "Yeah." He says at last, still quiet, before raising his eyes to his cousin and smiling. "Come on, let's get you inside. I think your lips are turning blue."

Accepting the abrupt change of subject with grace, Marjorie gets to her feet and follows Neville out of the greenhouses. The grounds of Hogwarts are covered in a thick layer of snow that Marjorie and Neville have to hop across in a most undignified manner. She's quite sure that they look utterly ridiculous as they clutch each other's arms and take leaping, bounding steps over the snowdrifts, but neither of them could care less, laughing the whole way back to the castle.

Marjorie is fantasizing about about a nice hot mug of tea and warming herself up by the fire before she begins to get ready for the ball, and as a result she doesn't notice the group of laughing and shouting Gryffindors they're walking walking passed until something cold and wet smacks her in the face so forcefully that she's knocked clean off her feet and back into a pile of snow.

"Oh shit!" 

"Maggie?" Neville yelps, diving to help her back to her feet. "Are you alright?"

Marjorie blinks snow out of her eyelashes, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. When she looks up, she sees Ron Weasley hurrying over looking distinctly mortified. "Bloody hell, Marjorie, I'm _so_ sorry! I wasn't aiming at you, I swear!"

"Oh, that's alright." Marjorie says, her cheeks pinking as she allows Neville to help her struggle to her feet. She can't be annoyed at Ron when it looks as though his face is going even redder than hers. "No harm done!"

Over her shoulder Marjorie can hear laughter, and when she turns she sees the twins grinning as they watch the interaction. Their cheeks and noses are red from the cold, despite the fact that they're well-wrapped up in matching scarves and hats, and their eyes are gleaming with mirth. "Damn, Ron!" Fred calls, grinning from ear to ear.

"What did Longbottom ever do to you?" George finishes, snickering.

"I was aiming for _you_ , you absolute wankers!" Ron yells hotly, and is promptly hit in the face with another snowball courtesy of Fred, which causes the twins to fall about howling with laughter all over again. Ron wipes the snow of his face and glowers at them. "Arseholes."

Marjorie sighs and turns to Neville, ready to finally return inside, but stops short when she sees him looking longingly at the laughing boys hurling handfuls of snow and ice at each other. The twins appear to have bewitched an enormous snow fortress, and charmed dozens of snowballs to rain down upon their opponents at two-minute intervals.

"Why don't you stay out here, Nev," Marjorie suggests lightly, "I'll head in myself."

"Are you sure, Maggie?" Neville asks, unable to hide his eager look towards the snowball fight.

"Yeah, of course." Marjorie smiles, and ruffles his hair. "Go on, enjoy yourself."

Neville beams at her, and sets off towards the group of boys at a run. "I'll see you later!" He shouts over his shoulder, before diving headfirst behind Harry's snow castle.

Marjorie peers at her dress, lying on her bed amongst the torn wrapping paper. Admittedly, it's not nearly as bad as she was expecting -- she had been quite nervous leaving the picking of a dress up to her grandmother, but she had done a decent job. 

"It's nice, Marjorie." says Alicia earnestly, patting the skirt of it. 

The dress is powder blue, with a heavily embroidered bodice and a voluminous skirt that brushes the floor. It looks a bit like it was pulled from the last century, and it _does_ bear a rather striking resemblance to a set of curtains that Marjorie swears she saw hanging in her Gran's bedroom, but it'll do for the occasion. It's nowhere near as glamorous or... _modern_ as some of the other girls' dresses, but that's fine. Marjorie thinks that she'd probably look a bit ridiculous if she tried to make herself as glamorous as the other girls anyway.

"Put it on!" Katie urges from her bed. She's already wearing her dress; a beautiful silvery number that flows over her body like river-water. She's patting at her stomach critically, though, "Blimey, I shouldn't have had that third portion at lunch. I feel like I'm about to burst right out."

"Oh, shut up, Katie, you look magnificent." Angelina rolls her eyes as she slips into her own beautiful dress robes, a stunning buttery gold colour that looks strikingly gorgeous against her dark skin.

Marjorie hesitantly draws the curtain around her bed as she strips and begins to wiggle into her own dress. It fits well (of course it does, Gran has been buying her dresses for most of her life and probably knows Marjorie's measurements better than Marjorie does herself), but it certainly isn't anywhere near as lovely as the other girls' dresses. That's okay, though; Marjorie thinks it suits her all the more for that.

She steps nervously out from behind the curtain, and Alicia is the first to see her. "Oh, you look very nice, Marjorie!" She says warmly, and steps forward to lace up the back without being asked.

"Thank you." Marjorie says nervously, fidgeting. "You all look very beautiful."

She means her compliment wholeheartedly -- all three of them look as though they might have stepped out of a storybook. Katie beams at her, then gestures her over to sit down in front of her. "Want me do your hair?"

Marjorie sits down and allows Katie to pull her hair up into an elegant little up-do. Unused to having her hair played with by another person, Marjorie ends up fidgeting anxiously with her hands until Katie is done. She's used to simply tying her hair back with a ribbon, so having it styled is certainly a novelty.

After what seems like an extraordinarily short amount of time, it's time to leave for the ball. Marjorie is simply a bundle of nerves, practically bouncing out of her skin the entire way from the dormitory to the Entrance Hall. At one point Katie has to grab onto her wrist to stop her from falling headlong down the stairs, and Marjorie has to force her jitters down. When they reach the Entrance Hall, they find that it's practically overflowing with students trying to find and meet up with their dates and their friends. Marjorie follows the girls through the crowd, sticking closely to Alicia, who's unafraid to clear the way with her sharp little elbows.

"Ah, there they are!"

It seems as though all the Gryffindors have met up in the same corner of the Entrance Hall; Seamus is there with Lavender Brown, Harry and Ron (who's dressed in dress robes that look to be even more old fashioned than Marjorie's, much to her guilty relief) are there with the Patil twins, Neville is there with Ginny Weasely (who looks as pretty as ever), and the twins stand to the side, looking very handsome indeed in their dress robes. Marjorie wondered how it was the twins came to be wearing such well-fitting and handsome dress robes when Ron was stuck looking like an over-embroidered doily, and she supposed that the twins were possibly wearing Bill or Charlie's old robes while Ron was stuck with... well. Whoever owned those ones.

"Maggie, you look wonderful!" Neville beams. He's practically glowing with enthusiasm and excitement, and it makes Marjorie's heart swell to see him so happy.

"You look very handsome yourself, Nev!" She says cheerfully, and smiles at Ginny. "And you look very pretty, Ginny."

As the others begin to meet up with their dates, Marjorie begins to cast a careful eye around the hall. She has a brief moment of panic where she wonders if perhaps Kolya has forgotten about her, or if her perhaps changed his mind, but then the third time she looks around the hall she spots his dark wavy hair. Relieved, she moves away from the group chattering behind her and over to him, trying to shake the irrational fear that he had forgotten that he had asked her in the first place.

"Um, hello." She says once she reaches him, shy and a little awkward.

He turns from where he had been chatting with two other Durmstrang boys, and when his eyes land on her it takes a moment for recognition to spark. "Ah, Margaret!" He says with a polite smile, "Good evening!"

"Er- Marjorie, actually-" Marjorie begins to correct him nervously, but he's already turned back to his friends to introduce her as his date so she decides to just smile at them. It doesn't really matter, anyway.

The dinner they're served just before the dancing is perhaps some of the best food that Marjorie has ever eaten in her life. The sentiment is clearly shared, as most everyone has tucked in enthusiastically. Beside her, Kolya seems to be enjoying the goulash immensely.

Across the table from her is Neville, who is chatting happily away with Ginny over his dinner, and beside him is Seamus and Lavender. A little further down the table, George is grinning wickedly as his date (a very pretty French girl from Beauxbatons), whispers something in his ear. Opposite him, Fred and Angelina are snorting with laughter over some unheard story. Marjorie has to consciously stop her eyes from wandering over to them.

"Your castle is very strange." Kolya says, his eyes gazing intently at the candles floating overhead. The Great Hall looks positively magical, with fairy lights and floating Christmas trees, garlands and wreaths and grand tables all set out for guests.

"Oh?" Marjorie says politely, "Is Durmstrang very different?"

"It is not so big," Kolya shrugs, eyeing the decorations with an air of mild awe, "And much, much colder. We are not allowed fires unless for magical purposes. Professor Karkaroff says this is to make us tough."

Marjorie glances at the Headmaster of Durmstrang, who is scowling down at his own dinner. "Oh." She says, rather surprised. "That sounds awful."

Kolya shrugs, though it isn't clear whether he agrees or not. "It also does not accept Muggle-borns, like here." He says neutrally, gazing around at the students gathered in the Hall, "And we are taught mainly, how do you say... martial magic? For fighting."

Marjorie blinks. "That... I see. I don't think I would like that very much at all."

A crooked smile begins to quirk Kolya's lips. "No, I do not think you would." He agrees, sipping on a glass of dark mead. "You are soft."

Marjorie frowns, not altogether sure how to take that comment. She crosses her arms over her torso, hoping he wasn't talking about her body, which is admittedly on the chubbier side. "Soft?"

Kolya nods decisively, taking a much larger gulp of his mead. As soon as it empties, it refills itself again. "It is not bad thing," He assures her, "But it would be bad thing at Durmstrang."

"Ah, I see." Marjorie says, although she doesn't really. "Well, good thing I go here, then."

"Yes, good thing."

By the time dinner is finished and the tables cleared away to make room for a glittering dance floor, Kolya is well on his way to being quite tipsy. He leads her out to dance far more enthusiastically than she had expected, and doesn't seem to notice at all when she stands on his toes. He sweeps her around the room and past her classmates, until she's quite dizzy and clutching at him to keep on her feet.

The dancing isn't nearly as fun as when George had spun her in those ridiculous circles during Professor McGonagall's dance class, but Kolya seems to be enjoying himself at least. Eventually, he leads her off the dance floor, grinning as his chest heaves from exertion. 

"I go get drinks, yes?" He says, pointing over his shoulder towards the refreshments.

"Oh, yes please." Marjorie smiles, quite out of breath. She watches as Kolya disappears into the crowd, and then finds a chair to sink down into. Her feet are quite sore from the dancing, although she hadn't been on her feet all that long, so she contents herself with watching other couples and groups of friends as they spin about the dance floor.

She cradles her face in her hands as she spots Neville waltzing with Ginny, and smiles a bit when she sees how incandescently happy he looks; Ginny seems to be having a grand time too, laughing in delight every time he spins her. She sees Victor Krum dancing very closely with Hermione, who looks incredibly beautiful in her new robes and fancy hairdo. 

She's been sitting there for quite a while when the Weird Sisters are led onstage and begin to play, and everyone on the dancefloor begins to go wild. She hums along absently as she watches them all, smiling; Alicia and Lee Jordan are headbanging aggressively to a song that really isn't fast enough to headbang to, and Fred is giving Angelina a piggyback around the dancefloor while it looks like George is attempting to convince his Beauxbatons date to let him do the same.

Someone drops heavily into the seat beside her, and she startles. It's just Katie though, who scowls furiously out at the dancefloor as she sips on something that smells strongly of Firewhiskey. 

"Hey." Marjorie says cautiously, "Enjoying yourself?"

Katie just sighs and points to the left corner of the dancefloor, where Kenneth Towler is snogging the face off of a dark-haired Ravenclaw. "Wanker." She says without heat, before turning to eye Marjorie curiously. "What're you doing here all on your own, eh? Where's your Durmstrang boy?"

"Er- gone to get us drinks." Marjorie says, choosing to leave out the fact that it must have been well over half an hour since Kolya had disappeared.

"Oh, that's nice of him." Katie says rather glumly.

Marjorie is still looking at Kenneth Towler, however. "Blimey, it looks like he's trying to swallow her whole."

Katie snorts on her Firewhiskey, then shrieks a little as it burns her nose. "It _does_ , doesn't it." She giggles, eyeing the two speculatively. "Well, whatever. Maybe someone else will ask me to dance."

"I'm sure they will." Marjorie says earnestly; Katie looks incredible tonight, after all. "Er- won't you get in big trouble if you're caught with that?" She nods pointedly towards Katie's Firewhiskey, to which Katie responds with a wink.

"They won't catch me, darling. Want some?"

"Oh, no thank you!" Marjorie says hastily, the memories of her last night with Firewhiskey rising up. Katie laughs, before standing with a wink and beginning to drift back into the crowd.

Alone again, Marjorie sighs to herself and lets her gaze wander around the room. She spots Ron and Harry, looking as alone and glum as she feels herself. She's actually contemplating joining them when she finally spots Kolya emerging from the dancefloor, sweaty and grinning and carrying two goblets.

Marjorie sits up straighter, surprised by how relieved she feels to see him; she had just about resigned herself to being abandoned. Kolya crashes down into the chair next to her, spilling a little bit of butterbeer all over his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to notice at all. 

"Drink for you." He slurs a little, pressing the second goblet into Marjorie's hand.

"Thank you very much." Marjorie accepts the drink with a smile, peering at him out of the sides of her eyes; it seems that wherever Katie had gotten her Firewhiskey from, Kolya had gotten some too in the time he'd been away. She takes a sip, and then promptly chokes on it; seems like Kolya has put some Firewhiskey in it, too. "Oh! It's very, er, strong."

"Yes." Kolya chuckles, and then throws back his drink in one go. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, then leans in very close to her. "You have nice eyes."

"Oh!" Marjorie says, surprised. She can feel her cheeks begin to darken, and looks down at her hands rather than Kolya. "Thank you. Er- you do too!"

He's very close to her now, and Marjorie is hyper-aware of the way his arm presses into hers. She wonders if he's going to kiss her. She doesn't know if she wants him to.

"You are like, how do you call them..." Kolya muses with a drunken frown, using his hands to denote something small, "Ah! A rat."

Marjorie's entire face falls in dismay. "A rat?" She repeats, hoping fervently that no one around them can hear this conversation.

Kolya nods, but then frowns a little and shakes his head. "Hm, no, that is not right. How do you call the other one? Littler, and fluffy?" His brow furrows even further, and it looks as though the fierce amount of thought he's putting into this is causing him physical pain, until he claps his hands and roars, "Ah! Mouse! Little mouse!"

Marjorie cringes, mortified, and looks around quickly to check if anyone is listening to them. Luckily, everyone seems to be entirely lost in their own worlds. "A mouse," she echoes, hoping she doesn't sound as crestfallen as she feels. "Well. Um. I see."

"Yes," Kolya's eyes are heavy-lidded with drink now, and he sways a little to the side as he reaches out to pinch one of Marjorie's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. "Little and quiet and soft, with chubby cheeks." He trails off, jaw slack as he stares off into middle distance. "No... am I thinking squirrel?"

Marjorie just stares at him in mild disbelief. She doesn't know how to even begin reacting to this, and so she ends up fidgeting anxiously with her hands. "Squirrel." She breathes. She feels very, very stupid.

"It's good thing." Kolya is saying, apparently oblivious to her rapidly dropping mood. "You are very sweet, little mouse."

He throws his arm over her shoulder and draws her close, until he's leaning on her quite heavily. Marjorie just bites her lip and tries not to look upset; she feels ridiculous. She knew she shouldn't have come to the ball -- what had she been thinking?

Kolya leans very close to her, glancing down at her lips, and Marjorie feels her heart seize in her chest. _Please don't_ , she thinks, trying to lean out of his grasp. But Kolya stops suddenly, his brow furrowing in a frown, before he says, "I need to piss."

Marjorie blinks, before relief crashes down on her hard. "Well! You should go and do that, then." She says quickly, extricating herself from under his arm as quickly and gracefully as possible. Without her supporting him he nearly topples to the ground, but manages to regain his balance just in time. He blinks, and then nods slowly and lumbers to his feet before setting off into the crowd.

Marjorie covers her face with her hands. She thinks she would quite like to go to bed now.

"Longbottom? You alright?"

Fred Weasley is standing in front of her, carrying two goblets of butterbeer and frowning concernedly at her. Marjorie straightens up immediately and forces a smile. "Of course! Yes. Just, um, resting, is all. Having a good night?"

Fred is still eyeing her a little suspiciously. "Yeah, pretty good. Just getting drinks." He holds up the two goblets and grins. When she doesn't grin back, he tilts his head and moves forward to sit down in Kolya's vacated seat. "Come on, what's up? Where's your date?"

Marjorie is about to tell him that Kolya went to the bathroom, but when she glances out at the dancefloor she spots a familiar head of wavy brown hair right at the centre of a crush of people. So much for having to piss. "Well, at least he's having fun." Marjorie says dryly, watching Kolya leap around drunkenly with his group of friends from Durmstrang, roaring and laughing in slurred Russian. Fred follows her gaze, and immediately makes a face when he spots him. Before he can make any comment or try to cheer her up or anything, Marjorie quickly says, "So, where are the others?"

"Dunno. Well, here comes Georgie." Fred gestures to the edge of the crowd where George has just emerged from, flushed and beaming. He looks somewhat rumpled, and his French date is hanging off his arm and laughing up at him. "Damn, looks like _he's_ having a good time."

"Yeah, it does." Marjorie says absently, watching the couple. They look very happy indeed, but Marjorie can't quite work up the energy to envy them. She just feels a little melancholy.

George nods at something his date says and waves her off, before making a beeline straight for Fred and Marjorie. "Blimey, s'hot in here, isn't it?" He says once he reaches them, collapsing into the seat next to Marjorie.

"Suppose that depends on what you get up to on the dancefloor, Georgie." Fred says slyly, smirking at his brother over Marjorie's head.

George leans over and cuffs his twin over the head, laughing at the squawking sound he makes. Once they settle down again, his attention lands on Marjorie. "What's with the long face, Marjie? Not enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, the ball is lovely." says Marjorie hastily, looking away to avoid George's searching gaze. Unfortunately Fred is still on her other side, and the two of them are looking at her in such a discerning way that it feels as though she's been put under a magnifying glass.

"You seem a little upset."

"Not going to cry on us again, are you?" 

George smacks his brother over the head for that remark and hisses something about being insensitive, but Marjorie isn't paying much attention. She fiddles with the skirt of her dress, then sighs and resigns herself to just telling them the truth; she doubts she'll get any peace from them until they get some sort of answer out of her, anyway. "Um... do I- would you say that I remind you a bit of a mouse?"

Fred looks as though he's trying to keep a laugh trapped behind his teeth. "A mouse?"

"Or- or a rat?"

The barely stifled smile slips right off of Fred's face. "A _rat?"_

"Who the hell said that?" George asks, leaning forward in an attempt to catch Marjorie's eye. "Not that Durmstrang bloke?"

"Do we have to sort someone out, Longbottom?" Fred asks, rolling up his sleeves in a jokingly threatening sort of way. 

"No, no!" Marjorie says quickly, horrified at the thought. "He- well, I don't think he meant it in a bad way, or anything."

"How does someone call someone a rat in a _good_ way?" George still sounds a little baffled.

"He was drunk." Marjorie explains a little weakly. "Besides, I suppose he's not completely wrong. I probably am a little... mouse-like?"

Fred makes a disparaging noise in the back of his throat. "Coming from the girl who set Cedric Diggory on fire? I refuse to hear it."

"That was an accident!" Marjorie finally meets his eyes, if only to scowl at him. "Why do you keep bringing that up!"

"There she is!" George laughs, clapping her on the back. "I don't think anyone could compare you to a mouse. You're far more rabbit-like, in my humble opinion."

"Oh, yes, I can see the resemblance." Fred says cheerfully, clearly finding the growing expression of indignation over Marjorie's face extremely funny. "Very swift-footed, you are, Longbottom. Remember how fast she ran from us that day in the corridor, Georgie? Like a Thestral, you were."

"So fast she practically blurred," George nudges Marjorie playfully, "Were we that scary?"

" _No_ , I just thought-" _Merlin_ , this was embarrassing. She had sincerely hoped they had forgotten about that. "I thought you were going to play some awful joke on me, or something-"

"Same way you shouted at us at dinner that day when you thought we were just joking about trying to be friends?" George asks innocently.

"Rabbit-like self-preservation instincts." Fred adds with a wise little nod.

"Oh, stop." Marjorie throws her hands up, but the twins have succeeded in what they had been attempting to do -- make her laugh. "Fine. I suppose that's _marginally_ better than a mouse, at least."

"That's the spirit!" Fred ruffles her hair, paying no mind to the way several of Katie's carefully styled curls fall out of her updo. "You're jumpy and adorable and completely _un_ -mouselike, Longbottom. Ignore that stupid wanker."

Marjorie exhales, and forces her shoulders to finally relax. "Thank you." She murmurs, and offers both of them a small but very genuine smile. They have no real reason to be so nice to her, but their attention and their kindness is only making that stupid little spark of a crush grow in her chest. "It really wasn't that big of a deal, though. It was a silly thing to get upset over." Fred makes a face that makes it very clear he's about to argue, but Marjorie keeps talking. "I think I might go to bed. It's been a long day."

It _is_ late, and the ball is beginning to wind down a little; most of the couples who remain on the dancefloor have graduated to slow-dancing together, and some of the bolder couples have begun to disappear, giggling, to shadowy alcoves elsewhere in the castle. While there are still quite a number of guests present, enough have begun to retire that Marjorie doesn't look strange at all for hoping to leave a little early.

George glances around the room and clearly reaches the same conclusion as her. He gives a very false yawn and says, "Yeah, I'm pretty tired myself, actually. I'll walk you up."

"You don't have to do that." Marjorie stands and straightens her dress. "You've been very nice, sitting with me like this. You don't have to leave early just to make me feel better."

"Oh hush, Longbottom." Fred stands too and rolls his eyes. "When have we ever done anything we don't want to do?"

Her slight crush notwithstanding, Marjorie simply couldn't allow them to walk her back to Gryffindor tower; it was embarrassing enough that they had seen her upset and managed to get the truth out of her, she didn't need to add to that embarrassment by apparently being so pathetic that they felt the need to walk her right back to the common room. "What about your dates?"

Fred just laughs at her, and points to the dancefloor. "Angelina is dancing with Oliver Wood right now. Do you seriously think I'd interrupt that? I do value my life, you know." He then gave a very exaggerated look around the Hall. "And little Aline seems to have disappeared off with a Beauxbatons boy. Very tragic, but I'm sure George will get over it eventually."

It _is_ true that Angelina looks to be having the time of her life as she dances pressed up against Oliver Wood, and it is also true that George's date hasn't been seen since they first came off the dancefloor. The ball _is_ winding down, and they probably wouldn't miss all that much if they left now, but Marjorie can't help but feel very guilty. She really isn't even all that upset -- she probably will be later on, when she gets the chance to start properly over-analysing everything that was said, but for now she's just _fine_.

"Come on, Marjie, stop thinking so hard." George nudges her, then throws an arm around her shoulders. "Let's go, yeah?"

Marjorie relaxes into his touch, surprised at herself; she's not used to these kinds of casual touches, but she finds herself enjoying them a lot more than she would have expected. Maybe she's more touch-starved than she first realised, which is quite a mortifying revelation. She allows herself to be led from the Hall, though they all come to a stumbling halt in the Entrance Hall when they're nearly blinded by a sharp flash of light and a loud _'click'_.

Marjorie blinks rapidly, trying to regain her sight, as she hears Fred exclaim "Merlin's saggy _ballsack_ , Creevey!"

"Sorry!" Tiny Colin Creevey squeaks, peering at them from over the top of his camera. "I- I just thought that would make a nice photo-!"

George chuckles, his fingers dragging over the bare skin of Marjorie's back where the top of her dress ends. "You know, if I didn't know that I just always look good then I might be more upset about being surprise-attacked by a little man with a camera. Freddie's just feeling insecure because he always looks ugly in candid photos."

Fred shoots him a look. "If _I_ look ugly then _you_ look ugly, you prat."

Marjorie is altogether distracted by the feeling of George's touch against her bare back, but she manages to suppress a shiver long enough to smile at Colin and say, "I'm sure it's lovely, Colin. I'd love to see it, when you develop it."

"Yes, of course!" Colin says eagerly, colour appearing high in his cheeks, "I could take another one, if you'd like?"

They don't even get a chance to reply before Colin's camera goes off again; Marjorie actually thinks that the damn flash is going to be permanently burned into her retinas. The twins both swear very loudly indeed, and Marjorie reels slightly. "Right!" She forces out a smile, "Thanks for that, Colin!"

"You look very nice tonight." Colin says in a rush, as though he's trying to force the words out all at once, before darting away and disappearing into the hall.

George snickers a little, his hand slipping off Marjorie's back. "Well, there you go. Creevey certainly doesn't think you look rat-like."

"What are you talking about?" Fred interjects, winding his own arm around Marjorie's waist and urging them all into a walk again. "He was _obviously_ talking to me."

As the twins dissolve into an argument about which one of them took Colin Creevey's breath away, Marjorie walks along between them and tries very hard not to trip over her own feet. Nothing could have prepared her for how _tactile_ the twins were -- she had seen them with their own friends, of course, and she knows how easy it seems to be for them to throw their whole bodies over whoever they happen to be nearest as they chat about whatever crosses their bizarre little minds, but she had never actually expected that touchiness to be aimed at her. It is, in a word, _overwhelming_.

When they finally reach the portrait hole and stumble into the common room, it's not altogether surprising to find it completely empty. Marjorie breathes a sigh of relief and lets herself slump a little, delighted by the relative solitude. The twins make a beeline for the couches and throw themselves down, bouncing a little against the cushy seats. "Coming to sit, Longbottom?"

"Ah, no, I think I'll go to bed." Marjorie smiles a little awkwardly. "I do want to say thank you, though. Really. Um, thank you. I feel bad that you had to leave the ball early."

"Don't be silly, Marjie." Fred says dismissively, pulling a pack of Exploding Snap cards out from underneath a couch cushion and beginning to deal them. "You're acting like it was some sort of enormous sacrifice; it's no big deal to walk a friend from the ball back to the common room. Besides, most of the fun was over anyway."

"Are we?" Marjorie asks slowly, startled.

"Hm? Are we what?" George looks up from his cards with a grin, but then his smile seems to slip a little as he looks at her. "What, are we _friends?_ Of course we're friends."

"Oh." Marjorie says. She sounds stupid, she knows she does, but she doesn't think she's ever _had_ friends before. The twins are the last people she would ever have expected to declare friendship with her, but she feels a bubble of happiness expanding rapidly in her chest all the same. " _Oh_. Well. That's- okay. Um. That's great." The twins look at her as though she's gone round the twist or something, but she can't even bring herself to care. She just beams at them. "I'm very happy to be friends with you."

The twins look at each other, then back to Marjorie and slowly return her smile. "You are so-" Fred begins, but then cuts himself off with a shake of his head and starts over. "Yeah, back at you, Marjie."

"Go to bed, rabbit." George softens his words with a grin, "Don't bother your head thinking about that stupid Durmstrang tosser again."

Marjorie just nods and, still smiling, sets off up the stairs towards the dormitories. 

The next morning at breakfast, Marjorie is greeted by the strangest sight.

At the Slytherin table, Kolya sits amongst his group of friends looking absolutely miserable. Marjorie had originally assumed that a hangover was the cause of his gloomy look. She had actually considered, for a few moments, going over and apologising for leaving early without telling him. She very much doubted that he had gone looking for her, or even spared another thought for her, but it would surely be the polite thing to do. She was actually preparing herself to stand and make her way over to him -- at least, that was until he sneezed rather violently, and an enormous amount of tiny black spiders sprayed from his nose and all over the Slytherin table.

Marjorie watches open-mouthed as a girl who was sat opposite Kolya screams and scrambles away as her breakfast is overtaken by a veritable swarm of tiny spiders. "What on earth...?" She breathes, straining along with everyone else in the Hall to get a better look.

"Bloody hell, who'd _he_ piss off to get hexed like that?" Ron Weasley, who looks quite ill as he watches the spectacle, says in a carrying whisper to Harry.

No sooner has Ron spoken than Marjorie glances over to see the Weasley twins watching Kolya's distress with great amusement. Fred seems to feel her eyes on him, and looks over; when their gazes meet, he overs her a cheeky grin and toasts his glass of pumpkin juice in her direction.

Marjorie stares back at him speechless, before looking back to the Slytherin table. Kolya seems to be trying to wipe his nose with his robes, but the spiders are still falling out of his nostrils and now seem to be climbing into his sleeves.

Entirely unable to help herself, Marjorie ducks her head down and starts to laugh, breathy and quiet with disbelief.


	10. x

Marjorie peers down at the broken bird bones splayed across the crocheted table cover, frowning and poking at them unhappily. She consults her Divination textbook, but it doesn't offer much help with deciphering the meaning behind the pattern the bones have fallen in.

"Well, my dear?" Professor Trelawney falls upon her table with little warning, causing Marjorie to jolt from fright, "What do you see?"

"Er-" Marjorie fumbles to sit upright and peers closer at the bones. "Well, um. Th-that bone there, and the way it's shaped like a broken wishbone, represents a, um, a powerful person? Or, or maybe an authority figure?" She glances nervously at Trelawney, who's frowning at the bones. "And that one there, with the jagged break in it, I think it means deception? Or lying, somehow. Um-"

"Hmmm." Trelawney purses her lips as she examines the bones, then pats Marjorie on the shoulder. "I'm not quite sure that's it, dear. The ancient art of Divination isn't for everyone, but keep trying."

Someone behind her begins to snigger and Marjorie deflates a little after the professor walks away, scowling resentfully at her bones. This was a stupid exercise anyway. She scribbles down vague nonsense to hand up for the end of class, and begins to pack up once the bell goes.

"Miss Longbottom, could you stay a moment?" Trelawney calls out to her before she can leave.

Marjorie hesitates, but turns and waits all the same. Professor Trelawney has always made her a little nervous -- the big, bug-like eyes were a little creepy, especially when magnified behind her thick, bottle-like glasses. "Of course, Professor."

Trelawney sweeps past her and over to a dainty little cabinet filled with crystals and tinkling like windchimes, and from it she pulls out what Marjorie recognises as her extra-credit dream journal from last month. Turning back to face her, Trelawney smiles in that dreamy, absent way of hers. "I was hoping to speak to you about this, my dear." She gestures with the journal.

"Oh, I see." Marjorie says rather unenthusiastically. She casts her mind about desperately, wondering if she had somehow managed to fill it out incorrectly.

"Sit, please." Trelawney gestures at the overstuffed pouffe chair opposite her, still smiling vaguely as she watches Marjorie reluctantly sink into it. "Now then," She flicks briefly through the journal, as though to refresh her memory, before looking back to Marjorie, "You have some very interesting dreams, Miss Longbottom."

"Do I?" Marjorie blinks, surprised by this news. She had always found her dreams frustrating and utterly devoid of meaning; full of dark figures alternately whispering to her or pointing at some distant, unseen thing beyond her awareness.

"Oh yes." Trelawney lays the book out on the desk carefully. "There are many different types of Divination, you know, and dream interpretation is only one of them. You may not have any great aptitude for osteomancy, but I do hold out hopes for your dreams!"

Marjorie thinks that Professor Trelawney is actually trying to compliment her, though it falls somewhat short of actually working. "Er- thanks, Professor." she says anyway, just to be polite.

"You do have... _visitors_ in your dreams, do you not?"

"Visitors?" Marjorie repeats, feeling as though she had missed a step in their conversation somewhere.

"Yes, yes," Trelawney is beginning to sound slightly impatient, although she quickly regains control of her usual airy demeanor. "That is to say, you speak in your dream journal of these curious dark figures and their whispers."

_Oh dear,_ Marjorie thinks, chewing on her lower lip. It seems that Professor Trelawney is reading far too much into what she had written in that damn journal; it was true that her dreams are a little strange but she's quite sure that it's down to stress, not down to any mystical 'visitors'. "I don't think-" she begins, but Trelawney cuts her off quite soundly.

"Do you ever talk to them, dear? Make contact?" Trelawney peers at her eagerly, "It is a rare gift indeed, to be able to look into the world beyond our own!"

Marjorie lets out a nervous little laugh and looks down at her hands. "Um, no, I haven't ever-"

"Well, then that is what you must do!" Trelawney says eagerly, standing and holding out her dream journal. "You are doing much better in my class with your extra credit assignment, dear, but I think another month or two of dream-journalling will _really_ improve your grade!"

Reluctantly, Marjorie takes the dream journal. An extra two months of journalling the most frustrating and nonsensical figments of her unconsciousness was absolutely _not_ what she had been hoping for, but she manages to muster up a smile all the same. "Right. Well, thank you, Professor."

"Oh please, my dear, you needn't thank me. It is an _honour_ to be able to guide you through the mystical world of the unseen and the immaterial." Trelawney says airily, walking Marjorie to the trapdoor and seeing her out.

As soon as Marjorie escapes the over-perfumed air of the Divination classroom, she breathes a deep sigh of relief, reveling in the fresh air of the corridor. Trelawney's presence is always rather overwhelming, but she supposes it is rather nice to not have to worry about doing poorly in her class thanks to this new extra project.

After dinner, Marjorie wanders over to where her roommates are settled in the armchairs by the fire in the common room; Alicia and Katie seem to be in the middle of a rather heated argument about their Arithmancy homework, and Angelina has her head buried in a copy of _Which Broomstick?_ as she tries valiantly to block them out. She peeks over the top of the magazine and smiles tiredly at Marjorie as she sinks into the loveseat directly opposite the fire.

Marjorie smiles back, and watches as Angelina goes back to her article on proper broomstick care. Other than Katie and Alicia's bickering, the common room is rather quiet as everyone either talks lowly or works on homework. Marjorie shifts on the loveseat and allows herself to relax into the overstuffed cushions, happy to just laze about for the rest of the evening.

"Well hel _lo_ , Longbottom." Fred Weasley thumps down next to her and gives her an over-exaggerated wink. "Looking good today!"

Marjorie feels her whole damn body flush, and she tries to sink lower into the loveseat. "You really don't have to do that."

"Do what? Pay my dear friend a compliment?"

It's been two and a half weeks since the Yule Ball, and the twins have decided to pick up the most maddening habit of complimenting Marjorie as often as they can. Apparently, they had decided that hexing Kolya after the ball simply wasn't enough and that Marjorie needed to be cheered up even more via increasingly frequent comments.

"Good afternoon, everyone." George appears from her left and sits down beside her; there's really not enough room though, so she ends up being sandwiched uncomfortably close between them. "Longbottom, you're practically glowing today!"

"Merlin." Marjorie tries very hard to become invisible by sinking down into her robes, but it doesn't seem to work. The loveseat really isn't big enough for all three of them, especially since the twins are _ridiculously_ tall, so the two of them have ended up practically sitting on her. Alicia and Katie have stopped arguing, and are looking at them curiously now.

"Did you do something new with your hair?" Fred tugs on a lock of her hair, which is tied back with a simple ribbon the same way that it has been nearly every day since first year. He looks like he's quite enjoying the way she's trying to melt into the couch.

"Maybe it's just the way she looks in the firelight." suggests George, who's grinning widely as he watches Marjorie's cheeks turn pink.

"What... is happening right now?" Alicia whispers to Katie, their argument apparently completely forgotten.

"They're just messing around." Marjorie mumbles, so low on the couch that she's almost slipping off of it. Fred and George's thighs are pressed over hers though, keeping her pinned to the cushions.

"Do you think so little of us, Marjie?" Fred asks, sounding wounded. It's almost believable, but for the fact that he's visibly trying not to smile.

"We are one hundred per cent serious!" George ruffles her hair and laughs as she ducks away from his hand and struggles to retie her ribbon in the very limited space on the couch. 

Angelina looks between the three of them, obviously as curious as Katie and Alicia. When she meets Marjorie's eye, she grins. "You know," She says, shutting her magazine. "I've just remembered, I've got to go to the library."

Marjorie blinks at her uncomprehendingly until Katie and Alicia follow her lead. "Oh yeah," Katie is nodding very unconvincingly, "I've got, er... loads of stuff to work. Just loads. We'll just... leave you to it then."

"Leave us to what?" Marjorie wriggles underneath the twins' legs to try and see where the girls are going. "Hang on, there's nothing to leave us to!" The girls are gone before Marjorie manages to wiggle out from beneath the twins, and she falls back in defeat when she realises that the boys have no intention of shifting away from her. "I think you're crushing me."

Both boys choose to completely ignore that remark. "Now that they're gone, Marjie darling, we have a favour to ask you."

"A favour?" Marjorie shifts nervously. They both have those mischievous little smiles playing around their identical mouths, and the force of both of their attentions at once is overwhelming.

"Only a little one." Fred says, tugging the ribbon in her hair loose again for absolutely no reason.

Before Marjorie can get annoyed, George reaches behind her and begins tying it again. "You remember when you blew up those Quidditch robes in Charms last month?"

"I- yes, of course." It takes a bit of effort to keep her voice steady, because George's fingers keep brushing against the back of her neck as he tightens the ribbon in her hair. He's probably doing it just to mess with her. 

"Well, we'd like to watch you do it again."

Marjorie turns to stare at George, then at Fred. "What? _Why?"_

"Research purposes." Fred pipes up, eyeing the ribbon in her hair again.

Marjorie leans away from him suspiciously, turning so the back of her head is facing George. " _Research_ purposes?"

"No need to be so _suspicious_ , rabbit." Fred tweaks her nose and laughs at the expression on her face. "Have we ever done anything dodgy to you?"

Marjorie regards them both with narrowed eyes. "Is that why you've been so nice to me recently? You want me to blow something up for you?"

"Yeah" says Fred at the same time that George says "Of course not!"

Marjorie sighs as she watches them slap at each other, but then Fred turns to look at her again. "Fine, fine, we're obviously not just being nice to you because we want something. What kind of prats do you take us for?"

"I don't take you as prats!" She says defensively, "Why _are_ you being so nice to me, then?"

"We're this nice to everyone!" 

"I literally _saw_ you lock someone in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom only yesterday."

Fred snorts dismissively. "That was Montague. He doesn't count, he's an arsehole."

"I think we're getting off-topic." George nudges Fred with his elbow none too subtly. "Us being nice to you and wanting to watch you blow things up are two completely separate issues."

"Honestly, Longbottom," Fred starts to chuckle, "You're acting as though no one's ever said anything nice to you before us."

Marjorie inhales sharply, then finally manages to struggle out from under them so that she can stand. "That's- I obviously don't-" She twists her hands together and frowns. They _aren't_ the only people who have ever complimented her, _obviously_ , but kind comments can very often be few and far between. And even then, the compliments that she does actually receive are from the elderly witches that her Gran is friends with, or from her cousin Neville, not from young good-looking men like the Weasley twins. She had been hoping that hadn't been obvious. "That's not-"

"Whoa, Marjie, I didn't mean anything by it." Fred says quickly, reaching a hand out to to her. "Sorry, I just- never mind, yeah?"

"Right." Marjorie says a little stiffly, tugging at her robes. She takes a deep breath and looks down at the floor. "Right, yes. Um. What do you want me to blow up, then?"

The twins both break out into grins, and George claps his hands and jumps to his feet. "Well, we can't very well just start blowing things up in the common room, can we? Come on, there's a classroom on the second floor that's been abandoned since the 1930's. We'll go there."

The classroom, when they reach it, doesn't _look_ abandoned. In fact, it looks as though it's been used very recently; there are jars full of potion ingredients laid out on several of the desks, and a bag half-full of dungbombs left on a chair. There are several _scorch-marks_ on the stone walls, and on the floor are the remains of what looks like a couple of Dr Filibuster's Wet-Start Fireworks.

Marjorie squints around, a feeling of apprehension growing in her belly. "Remind me what exactly it is you want me to do, and why?"

"Simple, darling," Fred goes to the desk at the front of the classroom, where he procures a set of ancient robes. He takes out his wand and levitates the robes so that they hover against the wall with all the scorch marks. "We just want you to do exactly what you did before, when you blew that hole threw the Quidditch robes in Charms, you remember?"

Marjorie takes out her wand and regards the robes, chewing at her lip. "I didn't actually do it on _purpose_ , you know. I'm not sure how exactly to do it again."

Fred and George seat themselves at an empty desk nearby and watch her eagerly. "Not to worry, I'm sure you'll manage it."

"If anything, the fact that it was accidental makes it even more impressive." George chimes in. "You blew a hole straight through them!"

Marjorie wonders how she could ever forget, considering they were so fond of reminding her. She turns to the robes again and nods, trying to work up a bit of confidence. The weight of two pairs of eyes on her aren't exactly helping her focus. Rolling her wand in her hands, she supposes she may as well start with trying exactly what she had tried before. With a wand motion that's probably a little more violent than entirely necessary, she exclaims " _Colovaria!"_

With a loud and terrible ripping sound, the robes are cleaved clean in half. 

"Shit!" Fred jumps to his feet, staring at the robes in delight -- the half below the chest of the robes have fallen in a heap to the floor, while the other half remains pinned to the wall. " _Nice one_ , Longbottom!"

"Was that really just a colour changing charm?" George's mouth is hanging open a little, and he follows his brother over to look carefully at the damage. Rather conspicuously, the colour of the robes haven't so much as changed a shade.

Marjorie might normally be embarrassed at having failed so spectacularly at such a simple charm, but the reactions of pure delight from the twins are enough to temporarily hold her feelings of total uselessness at bay. "Is that... what you wanted, then?"

"It's fantastic, love, honestly, but we were hoping for something with a bit more _boom_ , you know?"

"Boom?" Marjorie says carefully, her eyes drawn to the used remains of the fireworks on the floor.

" _Boom._ " The twins say in unison, grinning wickedly.

Nodding thoughtfully, Marjorie watches as George repairs the torn robes with a flick of his wand. Fred moves to one of the desks to receive a little packet of powder, and moves to sprinkle it lightly over the robes. When they're done, they both hurry to take their seats again and look eagerly towards her.

"Should I try a different spell?" She wonders aloud. George looks utterly delighted at the idea alone, but Fred looks thoughtful before he shakes his head.

"Why try to fix what's not broken? We can experiment later, but for now let's stick with this one."

George pouts. "I want to see her try a _Reducto_." He says in an aside to Fred that Marjorie can very clearly hear.

"Hoho, that _would_ be brilliant," Fred murmurs with a grin, but then waves his hand. "Later, though."

"What's the powder?" Marjorie asks, peering at the dusty coating on the robes.

"Oh, don't worry about that." George says absently, and gives her an encouraging thumbs up. "Go ahead, Marjie."

But Marjorie continues to hesitate, squinting at the powder. "Is this going to be some sort of prank?"

"Oi, you really think we'd do that?" George asks indignantly, but moves swiftly on before she can actually answer him. "Alright, fine, look. It's just... something that we've been wanting to test, that's all. Something we've developed ourselves."

Marjorie tilts her head at him, confused. "I don't understand why you can't test it yourselves. I'm sure you're very capable of blowing something up."

"Well, of course we're _capable_ , Longbottom," Fred grins at her, resting his chin in his hands and gazing up at her from the desk. "But maybe we just wanted an excuse to spend time with you."

Marjorie just purses her lips and turns back to the robes. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but I'd prefer if you wouldn't make fun of me."

"Why do you _always_ think we're making fun of you, Marjie?" George asks conversationally, mirroring Fred's pose as he cradles his chin and rests his elbows on the desk. "We can be genuine sometimes, you know."

Deciding that it's probably best not to answer that, Marjorie simply flourishes her wand at the robes and casts the charm again. _This_ time she's far more successful in her failure of a spell, in that with a sharp _bang_ her spell blasts straight through the center of the robes just like the time in Charms.

_Unlike_ that past time, however, whatever powder Fred had sprinkled on the robes promptly ignites and begins to fizz. Within moments, the powder is fizzing and popping and brilliant sparks of pink and orange and yellow and red bloom into the most fantastic shapes. Flowers, birds, and butterflies burst out of the smoking remains of the powdered robes, twinkling and spinning mid-air before burning out in a shower of sparks. Marjorie yelps a little and stumbles back, only to watch open-mouthed as a shimmering golden rabbit bounces out of the sparks with a loud _pop_. It hops quite realistically away from the wall, before bursting into a shower of pink sparks that dissolve before they hit the floor.

After the rabbit, the popping and fizzing dies back down into quiet. Marjorie stares at the charred remains of the robes in mute surprise, before her eyes dart back to the used Filibuster's fireworks.

"That went better than I expected, actually." George murmurs quietly. Marjorie had almost forgotten they were still there. "They didn't burn out nearly as quick this time."

Fred is nodding, looking quite pleased with himself. "See the rabbit? That was way more realistic than before. The salamander droppings obviously work way better when they're ground rather than powdered-"

"You're making your own fireworks?" Marjorie asks breathily, her eyes still fixed on the spot where the rabbit had faded out of existence.

"Well, _trying_ to." Fred says with an air of false humility. "Not that the Dr Filibuster's fireworks aren't fantastic-"

"They've served us well throughout the years-"

"But sometimes it's fun to add your own flair to things, you know?"

"It _is_ a bit harder than we realised, though." George admits with a shrug. "We always figured it'd be easy enough, especially because we're pretty good at blowing things up as it is-"

"None of your natural talent, of course, Marjie-"

"But it's quite difficult to get the exact right balance of ingredients."

Marjorie finally manages to pull her gaze away from the floor; the twins are watching her quite intently, apparently eager for feedback. "But- that's incredible magic. This is- it's very impressive!" 

Both boys begin to act faux-humble, making loud ' _pshaw!'_ sounds and waving her compliments away, but they can't hide the way their ears are turning red. "Did you like the rabbit, then?" Fred asks with a cheeky grin.

"That part was Fred's idea." 

"Oi! It was both of our ideas!"

"I loved all of it." Marjorie laughs -- she's still too surprised by the beautiful display to try and properly think out her words, so she ends up speaking a little more freely than she usually would, still smiling with a sense of childlike delight. "It was beautiful, all of it! I can't- it really is so impressive that you made it yourselves, I think it's absolutely amazing."

George looks a little embarrassed but utterly thrilled, and scratches the back of his head. "It's still a work in progress, you know, trying to get more shapes and better longevity-"

"It's wonderful." Marjorie says, tucking her wand away and turning to smile at them properly. "They're going to be absolutely incredible when they're all finished. What... what are they _for?_ "

"Just to impress you, Longbottom." George winks at her, and grins when she flushes beet red.

"What are they _actually_ for?"

"Well," Fred shrugs, "We've been trying our hand at inventing a couple of... products, I suppose you could say."

"We started with sweets, actually." George stands up and rounds the desk, gesturing Marjorie to come closer. " _Actually_ , it started because Fred slipped Hiccough Sweets from Zonko's into my tea, and we started trying to create even funnier things to give to each other."

"We're thinking we might even start selling them," Fred shrugs and hops up to sit on the desk, legs splayed carelessly. "I mean, if _we'd_ buy them, then other people will be interested too, right?"

"Mum's not too happy about it, though," George says with a grimace, "Thinks we're wasting our time, or something, and that we'll end up accidentally killing ourselves testing them out or something."

"Are they dangerous?" Marjorie asks, a worried frown beginning to furrow her brow.

"No." George says after a hesitation that is the complete opposite of reassuring. "I mean, not _really_. The fireworks are definitely better fun to try out than the sweets, though."

"We got the idea from you, actually." Fred says in a would-be casual voice, picking at his fingers. 

Marjorie stares at him, wide-eyed and confused. "Me? Because I blew up those robes in Charms?"

"Er- partially." Fred sounds careful, as though he's treading around a sensitive subject. "But at the beginning of the year in Potions something went wrong with one of your potions, I don't know if you remember-"

"Your potions do tend to go wrong quite a lot," George points out, and then notices the way that Marjorie's face drops and quickly adds "Not that there's anything wrong with that, obviously! There's nothing like a good, cauldron-melting explosion."

As it happens, Marjorie _does_ remember the incident they're talking about. While it's true that her potions never turn out right, it's very rare that they actually _explode_ \-- That's why the incident at the beginning of the year was so traumatising. "I singed Daniel May's eyebrows off."

"Yeah!" Fred laughs, "Sparks flying everywhere, people screaming, your cauldron melting across the desk, and Snape getting so angry he practically turned purple. It was brilliant!"

Humiliation prickles at her skin, but the twins genuinely don't seem to mean any offence; if anything, they seem to earnestly mean well. They're acting as if they're fondly reminiscing on a treasured memory, grinning at her as though inviting her to do so as well.

"The way everything caught fire was even more impressive than the wet start fireworks we threw into Marcus Flint's Soothing Solution last year, and it got us thinking why not try our hand at creating our own, you know?"

George looks like he's about to add on to that, but at that moment the door to the classroom lets out a loud, sharp whistling sound and he curses instead. "That means Filch is coming, let's go!"

Marjorie is still feeling a little bewildered by the onslaught of information, but she allows herself to be swept up by the twins as they herd her out of the room and back into the corridor. "He's been trying to find our little workroom for months now," Fred says, far too cheerfully considering he was now directing her very swiftly down the corridor in an attempt to outrun the ancient caretaker, "But we've been putting every protective charm we've been able to come across on it for almost two years now."

Frantic, clumsy footsteps are echoing down the corridor behind them, and Marjorie practically trips over herself as she scrambles to speed up. "I don't want to get in trouble!"

The twins just laugh -- she can't tell if they're laughing at the idea of getting in trouble or the difficulty she's having keeping up with their stupid long legs. "You'd better run faster than that, then!"

Marjorie is panting embarrassingly hard by the time they reach the staircase leading to the Fat Lady's portrait, and she thinks that she probably would have given up at the sight of the stairs if not for the fact that Fred were directly behind her and had taken to prodding insistently at her lower back in an attempt to hurry her up.

" _Applesauce_!" George shouts at the Fat Lady as they approach her at a run.

The Fat Lady gives him a look full of displeasure. "You boys never say _please_ , do you?" She sniffs, before swinging open to allow them access to the portrait hole.

The relief of reaching the common room once more without having been caught is staggering, and she comes to a halt to allow George to climb in ahead of her as she fights desperately to catch her breath. Behind her, Fred chuckles lowly and slings a careless arm around her shoulder. "That was some fine running, Longbottom."

Marjorie laughs nervously, hyper-aware of the weight of his fingers against her shoulder. "My Gran would absolutely murder me if she were to get a letter from McGonagall." 

Fred just grins at her and takes his arm back, before dramatically bowing and gesturing to the portrait hole. Trying hard to look put together and calm (a difficult feat when she's sweaty and red-faced and her hair is falling out of her carefully knotted ribbon and into her face), Majorie steps forward and climbs into the common room after George, who's still waiting on the other side.

"Well, that was some good fun, eh?" George grins, nudging at Marjorie as his twins climbs through after her. 

Marjorie wheezes some vague noise that George apparently chooses to take as an agreement, because he claps her companionably on the shoulder before wandering over to join Lee Jordan. Fred leans over and says, "We'll have to do this again sometime." right in her ear. He's so close that he almost definitely notices the way she shivers as his breath ghosts over the sensitive flesh behind her ear, but he doesn't seem to notice.

Marjorie watches him walk over and join his brother, completely forgetting that it would be good manners to give him a reply. 


	11. xi

The library at Hogwarts is usually a truly magical place, bursting to the brim with ancient magical knowledge and the beautiful smell of old books, an endless winding labyrinth of enormous bookshelves and stacks of manuscripts. The quiet that engulfs the library is usually only broken by the soft rustling of pages or gentle footsteps against the hardwood floor, creating the most beautiful ambient environment for studying or doing homework.

That is, when that beautiful quiet isn't being constantly broken by the irritatingly bubbly giggling of the groups of girls that _continually_ follow Victor Krum about the library.

Marjorie clenches her jaw and tries very hard to block them out, to just _concentrate_. She's tucked into a very comfortable nook between two bookshelves, and it _should_ be the perfect space for her to work on her dream journal, but she just keeps getting knocked out of focus. At the very least, she's not alone in her annoyance; Hermione Granger sits at a desk across the way surrounded by books, and every so often she glares irritably at the girls who move in threes and fours through the aisles.

After yet another lingering laugh interrupts her concentration yet again, Marjorie shuts her dream journal with a sigh. It's looking increasingly unlikely that she'll be getting any more work today, so she decides to give up on her work and join Hermione.

Hermione is still scowling in the direction of the muffled whispers when Marjorie sits down opposite her, although as soon as her head whips around to face her, her expression clears. "Oh, Marjorie. How are you?"

Marjorie smiles at her, a little shy despite herself. "I'm good, thank you. Having trouble getting work done, too?"

"Yes." Hermione shoots a downright filthy look down one of the aisles, then sighs as she turns back to Marjorie. "It's Victor. The reason that those girls are here every day, that is. It's because Victor comes here."

It takes Marjorie an embarrassingly long moment to realise that by _Victor_ , Hermione means _Victor Krum_. "Oh." She glances around, and manages to catch a glimpse of dark, short-cropped hair at the end of the aisle of books. "And... is he here for you?"

A rosy blush appears high on Hermione's cheeks as she feigns interest in one of her nearby books. "I- well, I don't know about _that_ -" She clears her throat as she realises that the book she was pretending to be interested in was upside down, and hurriedly rights it. "I think he's studying for the upcoming task, actually. Which is why I'm here, too -- to help Harry, of course."

"Ah, of course." Marjorie chews at her lip thoughtfully; the second task was only a week away, and Harry had already had a stressful month. Neville had been absolutely irate about the nasty articles published by Rita Skeeter in the _Daily Prophet,_ and had taken to complaining insistently about them every chance he got. "How is he feeling about it?"

"Well, you know," Hermione fiddles with one of the large tomes she has open on the desk, "I think he's deciphered the clue from the Golden Egg, but figuring out a strategy is definitely a challenge."

Marjorie hums. "I don't think I'd be any help, but if there's anything I can do please let me know."

Hermione smiles warmly at her, but then seems to get distracted by something over her shoulder. Marjorie turns to see Victor Krum hovering behind her, his dark eyes fixed on Hermione. "Victor," Hermione says, a shy smile playing around her lips, "Er- this is Marjorie."

"Hello." Marjorie says, unable to meet his gaze. She may not be a big fan of Quidditch, but Krum is a world-renowned player and far more intense than she would have expected. She doesn't know how Hermione is able to withstand his stare without crumbling, but she looks completely composed (if still a little pink).

Krum gives her a little bow, and though he only takes his eyes off of Hermione for a moment to do so it still makes Marjorie blush violently. "Pleasure to meet you," He says; his voice is deep and rumbly and heavily accented, and Marjorie shoots a wide-eyed glance to Hermione before looking back at him. "You are friend of Hermione?"

"Yes, Marjorie is my friend." Hermione answers for her, and Marjorie is so surprised that all she can do is blink at her. She hadn't realised that they were close enough to be considered friends, though Hermione's words leave a pleasant sort of glow in her chest. 

"I'll, er- I'll just leave you two to it, then." Marjorie excuses herself a little awkwardly, though she sends a beaming smile at Hermione before she goes. In a new and greatly improved mood, she practically bounces her way out of the library; not only was Hermione completely unembarrassed to identify her as a friend in front of a world-famous celebrity, but said celebrity was also perfectly courteous to her even though he had absolutely no need to be.

With a silly little dreamy smile on her face, Marjorie floats her way down the candlelit corridors. It's late enough that Madame Pince was due to be ushering students out of the library anyway, so Marjorie isn't missing much by leaving the library before she intended to. She can't wait to tell Neville about meeting Krum -- neither of them are particularly big fans of Quidditch, but there's something exciting about being acknowledged by someone as well known and respected as Krum.

She passes Nearly Headless Nick with a polite "Hello!" as she drifts unhurriedly down the corridors, and his head wobbles dangerously as he bows back to her. The castle is quiet at this hour of the evening, with mostly everyone having retired already to their respective common rooms. 

"Evening, Longbottom!"

Marjorie startles a little at the sudden call, but when she turns to see Lee Jordan sauntering along behind her she breaks into an airy smile. "Oh, hello! How are you?"

Lee seems a bit surprised at her enthusiastic greeting, but he grins as he takes a closer look at her. "Damn, _you_ look happy. Where've you been all evening?" His grin turns distinctly cheeky, "Or should I be asking _who_ you spent the evening with?"

His tone seems quite pointed, but Marjorie isn't quite sure what exactly he means by it. "I've just been in the library. I met Victor Krum there!"

Lee's eyes flare wide and his mouth drops a little. " _Krum?"_

"Yes! He was very friendly." Marjorie can't keep the smile off her face, still buzzing off her little interactions in the library. "Very intense, though."

Lee looks as though he can't quite believe what he's hearing, staring at her as though his eyes are about to fall out of his head. "So you're telling me that the reason you're so relaxed is because you were, uh... _chatting_ with Victor Krum in one of the dark recesses of the library?"

"Well, I mean, there really wasn't all that much chatting going on." Marjorie says, a little puzzled but still smiling all the same.

Lee makes an odd sort of choking sound before clearing his throat hastily."Longbottom, I can honestly say that I did not think you had it in you."

"What do you mean?" Marjorie asks with a nervous laugh, fiddling with her plaited hair. She has a feeling that she's missing something in their conversation, but she hasn't a notion what that could be.

"Well, it's just-" It's not often that Lee Jordan stumbles for words, so it's surprising to see him do so now, "I don't think I've ever seen you so relaxed before. And... well, the last person I expected to be the cause of that would be _Krum_. Er- no offence."

Marjorie just smiles at him, bewildered but trying not to show it. "Oh, none taken!" She says as they begin to climb the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. "I was surprised myself, really! But he was quite a gentleman."

"Right! Blimey, well... er, fair play, I suppose!" He still looks a little confounded, but he nudges her encouragingly with an elbow. "I just- well, I thought he had a thing for Hermione Granger."

"Oh, well I think he does," Marjorie nods as they approach the Fat Lady, "That's the only reason he came over, I think."

" _Acid pops."_ Lee says to the Fat Lady, who swings open to allow them entrance with a lazy yawn. He gestures for Marjorie to go first, and then follows her into the common room. "You, er- you don't mind if I tell Fred and George, do you? If you want to keep it private that's totally fine too, I get that it's personal-"

"Oh, of course you can." Marjorie smiles, a little confused about Lee's behaviour -- she doesn't think she had said anything particularly personal at all. "Well, I'm going to try and get some work done."

"Right, right," Lee gives her a little wave before making a beeline straight for the twins, who have their heads together over a piece of parchment by the window.

Marjorie settles down by the fire and pulls out her dream journal again. It's delightfully warm in the common room, to the point that it's difficult to get any work done -- the comforting heat and flickering light from the fire is enough to make her sleepy within moments, and the quiet murmur of conversation from the other occupants relaxing around the room is just loud enough to make concentrating a bit of a chore. 

A yelp of " _Krum? You've got to be fucking joking-"_ breaks the tranquil atmosphere of the common room, and Marjorie glances around curiously to see the twins looking distinctly horrified as Lee hushes them. He must be telling them that Marjorie had been chatting with Victor Krum in the library, but she can't work out the reason behind the strength of their reaction. She doesn't have to wonder for too long; after another few moments of hushed conversation with Lee, the twins stand and begin to make their way over to where she sits by the fire. She ducks her head quickly and tries to pretend to be absorbed in her work, not wanting to be caught out watching them.

"Marjorie Longbottom," Fred says in a voice full of cheer that sounds slightly forced, "How are you, love?"

Marjorie closes her journal and peers up at him, trying not to appear flustered -- being called 'love' by Fred Weasley while he looks at her with his deep brown eyes and his hair gilded by the firelight is enough to turn her knees watery, and she's impossibly grateful that she's already sitting down. "Um, I'm fine, thank you! How are you?"

"Peachy," Fred says quickly, and then promptly steamrolls ahead, "So, what's this I hear about you and Krum, then?"

"Bit of tact wouldn't go astray, Freddie." George says in a would-be casual voice as he sits next to Marjorie, giving her a little smile that just toes the line of a smirk.

Marjorie looks between the two of them, and the feeling of missing an important element of the conversation comes back in full force. "Erm, I assume Lee already told you?"

"He did, yeah." Fred frowns, "But we thought he was joking."

"It does sound a little crazy." George adds with a quiet chuckle, leaning forward and keeping his voice low. 

Marjorie's brow dips into a frown. "Why would it be crazy," She asks slowly, "For someone to want to talk with me? Or is it because it was Victor Krum?"

George's expression changes all of a sudden, as though realising that they were treading on thin ice. "No, no," He says swiftly, "That's not what we meant at all, Marjie!"

But Fred is still frowning. "' _Talking'_? Is that what we're calling it now?"

"Well-" Marjorie is beginning to get overwhelmed, and looks back and forth between the twins rapidly, "Well, I suppose there wasn't all that much talking involved, really-"

Fred sits down on the arm of the chair, frowning deeply, and leans forward to force Marjorie to make eye contact. "Tell me he didn't- I mean, Marjie... Did he take advantage of you?"

Marjorie's mouth drops open. For a long moment, she stares at him in silent horror. "Ex _cuse_ _me?"_

George's eyes are darting rapidly between Marjorie and his brother, looking though he's watching a slow-motion train wreck that he has no way of stopping. "Well," He says hastily, apparently trying to do damage control, "We're just worried that you might have felt- well, _pressured_ , I suppose-"

"He's rich and famous," Fred adds, apparently having caught on to George's attempt to rescue the situation, "There's like, a power imbalance and all-"

"What are you talking about?" Marjorie asks, her stomach beginning to sink rapidly. They surely _can't_ mean what it sounds like they mean.

Fred runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. His jaw is clenched, and a muscle pulses in his cheek -- George appears slightly calmer, though his fingers are clenching and unclenching where he's crossed his arms over his chest. "Look, did you or did you not shag Victor Krum in the library?"

Marjorie inhales so sharply that it hurts her chest, her mouth dropping open in mute shock. _Where_ had they gotten that idea from? Merlin, was that the impression _she_ had been giving off? She's torn between horror and humiliation as she desperately thinks back over both her conversation with the twins and her conversation with Lee; she _knew_ she had been missing something, but she hadn't ever thought that she was giving off _this_ kind of an impression!

When she doesn't answer immediately, George hurriedly pipes up. "We're not judging- or, or _shaming_ or anything!"

"I'm sure the bastard is very persuasive." Fred nods, his expression dark.

This is so embarrassing that Marjorie wishes for nothing more than to disappear on the spot. She's practically wheezing from panic. "Oh my- _no_ , he is _not_ \- I mean, I absolutely didn't-"

"We don't want you to be upset or embarrassed, love." Fred reaches out and takes a hold of Marjorie's hand so that he can squeeze it reassuringly, "We just wanted to make sure that he didn't, well... _hurt_ you, I suppose, and that you didn't feel as though you couldn't say no."

Marjorie is quite sure that her face is beet-red, from the combination of both the mortification of the situation and the fact that Fred Weasley is actually holding her hand. "He- He didn't _touch_ me!"

George's shoulders slump forward with relief, and Fred exhales as he squeezes her hand. "Oh, thank Merlin." George starts to chuckle, but Marjorie isn't quite ready to laugh at the misunderstanding just yet.

"Merlin's beard, why would you think that?"

"You looked _very_ damn happy over here, and Lee said that when he asked you why, you said that you'd been with Krum in the library-"

"He said _hello_ to me!" It was a simple mistake, Marjorie knows that, but she can't help but feel embarrassed and a little offended, which makes her tone sharper than it ever would be ordinarily, "Can I not be happy without having _shagged somebody-?"_

"Of course you can!" Fred says hurriedly, glancing over his shoulder quickly to make sure nobody is listening -- other than Lee Jordan, who's peering with wide-eyed curiosity in their direction, no one has so much as glanced their way. "Blimey, of _course_ you can! We were just concerned, that's all, cause we're _friends-"_

"How could you even have thought that he'd _want_ to?" Marjorie asks in a hissing whisper, tears of humiliation beginning to prick at her eyes. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred straightens up, his shoulders set back as though preparing for a fight. "Why _wouldn't_ he want to shag you?"

Marjorie moves to tug her hand back out of his grip, but he won't let go. "Will you just- Oh, for heavens' sake! You know perfectly well why!"

"No, I don't." Fred says stubbornly, his chin jutting out as he clenches his jaw again.

George rubs at his face tiredly, before leaning over and dropping his arm around Marjorie's shoulders. "Marjie, darling, I think we need to do some work on your self-esteem."

Marjorie wiggles out from their grip and turns to look at them head on. "Maybe- maybe _you_ need to start working on not jumping to conclusions!"

The twins blink at her, and she can understand why; she was so quiet that they hadn't even taken note of her existence until a few months ago, so her raising her voice at them in a common room full of people starting to take notice of their little chat is extremely unusual for her. However, the weight of those curious stares is enough to deflate the small amount of indignant confidence she had managed to work up.

"I'm going to bed." She blurts, and darts for the dormitories before the twins have the chance to collect themselves enough to stop her.


End file.
